THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


FROM  THE  LIBRARY  OF 
ERNEST  CARROLL  MOORE 


LITTLE  POEMS  FROM  THE 
GREEK 


LITTLE  POEMS 

FROM  THE  GREEK 


BY 

WALTER   LEAF 


NEW  YORK 

ROBERT  M.  McBRIDE  &  COMPANY 
1922 


PRINTED  IN  GREAT  BRITAIN  ur  THE  RIVERSIDE  PRESS    LIMITED 
EDINBURGH 


College 
Library 

TA 


INTRODUCTION 

THE  following  translations  are  but  a  selection  from  a 
large  number,  mostly  made  during  the  war  as  a  relief 
from  more  pressing  occupations  and  anxieties.  The 
handy  little  volume  containing  the  Greek  text  of  Mr 
Mackail's  Select  Epigrams  from  the  Greek  Anthology 
was  at  that  time  my  constant  companion  ;  and  a 
large  proportion  of  the  work  of  love  was  done  in  the 
"daily  bread"  trains  which  conveyed  me  between  my 
country  home  and  my  office  in  the  City.  After  the 
war,  when  I  had  completed  versions  of  Mr  Mackail's 
five  hundred  epigrams,  there  appeared  in  the  Loeb 
Library  the  late  Mr  Paton's  monumental  edition  of 
the  entire  Anthology,  with  notes  and  a  prose  transla- 
tion, and  this  started  me  afresh.  But  the  additions 
hence  made  are  not  many  in  proportion  ;  Mr  Mackail's 
selection  is  so  admirably  done  as  to  leave  but  few 
gleanings  of  equal  value  to  those  he  has  chosen. 
This  will  be  apparent  from  the  Notes,  where,  while 
giving  the  original  sources  in  all  cases,  I  have  added 
also  a  reference,  where  possible,  to  Mr  Mackail's 
volume.  To  his  notes  I  must  refer  those  who  desire 
to  learn  something  more  about  textual  and  critical 
questions  ;  with  these  I  have  not  troubled  myself, 
generally  following  Mackail  without  further  question. 
Careful  readers  may  note  some  small  divergences, 
as,  for  instance,  in  Meleager's  beautiful  threnody  over 
Heliodora,  where  in  line  4  I  emphatically  disagree 
with  the  emendation  of  the  first  ^vana.  to  va^a. 


(  7] 


132TC 


The  first  problem  which  faces  a  selector  from 
the  Anthology  is  that  of  arrangement.  Should  the 
epigrams  be  grouped  under  authors  or  subjects  ?  The 
latter  course  is  chosen  by  the  editors  of  the  original 
Anthology,  and  is  followed,  on  lines  of  his  own, 
by  Mackail.  It  is  recommended  especially  by  the 
presence  in  the  Anthology  of  a  large  number  of 
anonymous  poems  which  are  wholly  undatable,  so 
that  a  complete  arrangement  in  historical  sequence 
however  desirable  in  itself,  is  impossible  ;  and  the 
anonymous  poems  are  of  such  high  interest  and 
importance  that  they  claim  a  prominent  place.  But 
a  grouping  under  subjects  precludes  the  wider  literary 
view,  and  makes  it  difficult  to  grasp  the  personal 
value  of  the  work  of  each  poet ;  after  all,  the  named 
poets  are  more  numerous  and  more  interesting  than 
the  anonymous ;  and  it  is  desirable,  if  only  as  an 
alternative,  that  the  work  should,  as  far  as  possible, 
be  presented  as  a  whole.  Moreover,  any  grouping 
under  subjects  must  be  to  a  large  extent  arbitrary. 
The  Anthology  itself  has  a  most  important  section, 
the  "  epideictic "  poems.  How  are  these  to  be 
represented  ?  There  is  no  exact  equivalent  in  English 
for  the  adjective  ;  it  seems  to  me  that  we  must, 
if  we  wish  to  translate  it,  come  perilously  near  to 
"  Sundries."  Mr  Mackail  abolishes  the  section  ;  but 
he  again  has  to  be  arbitrary.  He  gives,  for  instance, 
four  poems  on  a  stock  theme,  "  sailing  time  in  spring," 
all  closely  following  a  rigid  scheme,  and  ending  alike 
with  a  call  to  the  sailor  to  pay  his  vow  to  Priapus 
before  setting  out.  Of  these  two  are  classed  under 
Religion  (M.  v.  i,  2) ;  two  under  Nature  (vi.  26,  27). 

In  my  own  case  the  problem  is  simplified  by  the 
fact  that  I  am  publishing  only  a  selection  of  a  selec- 
tion ;  and  there  is  good  occasion,  therefore,  for 

t  8  ] 


grouping  these  few  poems  under  the  authors'  names, 
and  arranging  them  as  far  as  possible  in  historical 
sequence.  The  reader  will  be  able  to  form  some  idea, 
at  least  so  far  as  I  may  have  been  successful,  of  the 
range  and  sentiment  of  each  of  the  authors  whom  I 
have  here  chosen.  I  have  followed  Mackail's  distri- 
bution into  periods  ;  and  the  compass  of  the  volume 
allows  of  the  inclusion  only  of  about  half  the  period 
covered  by  the  Anthology — that  is,  roughly,  from 
600  B.C.  to  A.D.  550,  not  far  short  of  twelve  centuries. 
This  little  volume  covers  the  first  six,  and  does  not 
touch  the  anonymous  poems  which  may  fall  into  them. 
The  six  later  centuries  and  the  anonyma  offer 
material  not  inferior  in  grace  and  interest  to  what  is 
here  given ;  if  readers  care  to  have  it,  they  can  easily 
call  for  the  production  of  a  sequel.  Some  versions  of 
the  later  poems  have  indeed  been  already  printed  for 
private  circulation  ;  none  of  those  are  included  here. 

The  aim  which  I  have  set  before  myself  is,  of 
course,  to  present  the  spirit  of  the  original  in  a  read- 
able English  dress.  The  originals  are  poems,  and 
I  have  tried  to  reproduce  them  as  poems.  But  one 
is  met  at  the  first  step  by  an  obvious  difficulty.  The 
originals  are  all  in  one  metre,  the  elegiac  couplet. 
Should  they  be  reproduced  in  one  metre  ?  For  many 
reasons,  I  think  not.  English  has  never  produced  a 
metre  which  holds  in  literature  such  a  dominant  position 
as  the  elegiac  couplet  in  Greek.  The  nearest  approach 
is  the  "  heroic  couplet "  of  Pope  and  the  eighteenth 
century,  with  its  variation,  the  metre  of  Gray's  Elegy. 
But  to  the  invariable  use  of  this  there  are  many 
objections,  not  the  least  being  that  the  eighteenth- 
century  atmosphere  is  not  one  that  one  wishes  to 
introduce  into  the  Greek  Anthology ;  and  one  has 
to  be  carefully  on  guard  against  the  mock-heroic. 

[9  ] 


There  is  another  mechanical  obstacle.  English,  as 
measured  by  syllables,  the  only  applicable  test,  is 
more  concise  than  Greek,  but  not  generally  to  the 
extent  of  reducing  the  average  28  syllables  of  the 
Greek  couplet  —  which  may  be  as  many  as  31  —  to 
the  invariable  20  of  the  English.  It  is  often  possible 
to  do  it  without  undue  compression  or  omission,  but 
by  no  means  always.  As  a  test,  I  have  counted 
the  syllables  in  some  of  Mr  Mackail's  exact  prose 
translations  ;  and  I  find  that,  though  generally  a 
little  shorter  than  the  Greek,  his  renderings  are  not 
shorter  in  the  proportion  of  28  to  20.  For  instance, 
in  the  first  three  poems  of  his  fourth  section 
("Literature  and  Art"),  p.  174,  the  Greek  has  56,  57 
and  87  respectively,  the  English  has  44,  56  and  81. 
In  No.  VIII.  ("Anacreon's  Grave,"  i.),  on  p.  177,  the 
Greek  is  actually  shorter  than  the  English,  which 
takes  32  syllables  against  31  of  the  original.  But  I 
think  that  he  never  comes  down  to  20  syllables  for  a 
couplet.  If  therefore  we  are  to  use  the  heroic  couplet 
we  have  to  choose  between  compression  and  omission 
on  the  one  hand,  and  overrunning  on  the  other  ;  and 
in  poems  of  short  compass  overrunning  is  mostly  out 
of  the  question.  Moreover,  the  Greeks  include  among 
epigrams  poems  which  we  unquestionably  regard  as 
lyrical,  and  for  which  we  need  lyrical  metres.  The 
metre  of  Gray's  Elegy  is  suitable  for  epitaphs,  and  for 
them  I  have  used  it  where  I  could  ;  but  it  does  not 
lend  itself  so  easily  to  a  love  poem,  still  less  to  a 
purely  humorous  epigram,  of  which  the  Anthology 
has  a  large  number.  Gray  himself  chose  another 
metre  in  which  to  weep  the  pensive  Selima. 

On  the  other  hand  there  are  to  be  found  those  who 
would  wish  to  see  the  translations  in  the  metre  of  the 
original,  in  English  hexameters  and  pentameters.  I 


[ 


have  tried  my  hand  on  these,  and  I  find  that,  without 
entering  on  the  dubious  question  of  the  adaptability 
of  English  to  Greek  measures  at  all,  there  is  a  serious 
obstacle  in  the  fact  that  the  greater  conciseness  of 
English  makes  it  hard  to  fill  up  the  couplet  without 
padding ;  and  padding  at  least  I  have  aimed  at 
avoiding. 

It  has  therefore  seemed  best  to  assume  complete 
freedom  in  regard  to  metre,  and  simply  to  choose  that 
which,  to  my  taste,  best  suited  the  matter  in  hand  ; 
indeed,  having  regard  to  the  variety  of  the  matter, 
I  have  aimed  at  variety  in  metre  for  its  own  sake. 
After  many  experiments,  I  have  come  to  the  con- 
clusion that  with  two  lines  of  14  syllables  each  one 
always  has  ample  room.  The  line  of  14  syllables  is 
commonly  written  in  English  with  a  fixed  caesura 
after  the  eighth,  and  printed  as  two  lines,  of  8  and  6 
respectively  ;  but  it  can  be  obtained  in  various  other 
ways,  and  these  1  have  freely  used.  But  I  have 
equally  used  less  roomy  measures  when  I  found  that 
I  could  by  so  doing  escape  padding.  Rhyme  I  have 
held  to  be  essential ;  whatever  the  future  of  vers  libre 
may  be,  it  has  not  the  past  which  we  need  in  rendering 
the  antique. 

There  is  no  need  for  me  to  dwell  further  on 
principles,  the  public  must  judge  them  by  their 
results. 

WALTER  LEAF. 

22nd  October  1921. 


CONTENTS 

PERIOD  I 

FROM  EARLY  TIMES  TO  THE  END  OF 
THE  PERSIAN  WARS 

PAGE 

Erinna  ......         16 

Simonides  ......         17 

Aeschylus  .  .  .  .  .  .19 

Bacchylides  .  .  .  .  .20 

PERIOD  II 
THE  ATHENIAN  ASCENDANCY 

Plato   .......        22 

Ascribed  to  Plato  but  of  Later  Date  .  .  .23 

Parrhasius  the  Painter  .  .  .  .25 

Thucydides  (?)  .....         25 

Demodocus      ......         25 

PERIOD  III 

THE  SUPREMACY  OF  ALEXANDRIA 
i 

POBTS  OF  GREECE  PROPER  AND  MACEDONIA 

Addaeus          ......  28 

Anyte  .......  28 

Hegesippus     ......  29 

Perses  ......  30 

II 

FOUNDERS  OF  THE  ALEXANDRIAN    SCHOOL 

Simmias  ......         32 

Asclepiades     .  .  .  .  .  -33 

[13  ] 


PERIOD  III— tont. 

in 

THE   EARLIER  ALEXANDRIANS  OF  THE  THIRD 
CENTURY  B.C. 

PAGE 

Leonidas  of  Tarentum  .  .  .  .36 

Nossis .......         40 

Theocritus       ......         40 

Callimachus     ......         42 

Moero  .  .  .  .  .46 

Nicaenetus       ......         46 

Rhianus  .  .  .  .  .  .47 

Theodorides    ......         48 

Mnasalcas        ......         48 

Moschus  ......         49 

Diotimus  ......          49 

Theaetetus       ......         50 


THE  LATER   ALEXANDRIANS  OF   THE  SECOND 
CENTURY   B.C. 

Alcaeus  of  Messene     .  .  .  .  .54 

Dionysius         .  .  .  .  .  .54 

Dioscorides      ......         55 

Antipater  of  Sidon      .  .  .  .  .56 

Ariston  ......         62 

Hermocreon    ......         62 

Tymnes  ......         63 

Aristodicus      .  .  .  .  .  .64 

Meleager         ......         64 

Philodemus     ......         78 

Zonas  .......         79 

Erycius  ......         80 

NOTES  .  8 1 


PERIOD  I 

FROM  EARLY  TIMES  TO  THE  END 
OF  THE  PERSIAN  WARS 


ERINNA 


An  Epitaph 

Baucis  here  a  bride  doth  lie  ; 

Weep  her,  thou  that  passest  by, 

And  say  to  Death  who  dwells  beneath, 

"  A  jealous  god  thou  art,  O  Death." 

So  shall  all  that  see  her  tomb 

Tell  of  Baucis'  woful  doom  ; 

How  her  weeping  bridegroom's  sire 

Kindled  but  her  funeral  pyre 

With  the  torch  that  should  have  led 

Baucis  to  her  bridal  bed. 

Hymen,  so  thy  nuptial  strain 

Was  turned  to  doleful  dirge  again. 


II 

On  a  Portrait 

From  cunning  fingers  comes  this  limning  ;  see, 
O  great  Prometheus,  men  can  vie  with  thee. 
Had  but  the  craftsman  given  her  utterance  clear, 
Our  very  Agatharchis  had  been  here. 


16 


SIMONIDES 

i 
On  those  who  fell  at  Plataea 

If  Valour's  noblest  part  is  to  die  well, 
Blest  beyond  human  measure  is  our  lot ; 

Winning  for  Hellas  Freedom's  crown  we  fell, 
And  here  we  own  a  fame  that  ages  not. 

II 
The  Same 

Winning  their  dear  land  an  undying  name, 
These  took  for  raiment  murky  clouds  of  death. 

Not  dead  are  they  who  died  ;  their  glorious  fame 
Lifts  them  to  heaven  from  the  grave  beneath. 

ill 

On  the  Spartans  who  fell  at  Thermopylae 

Go,  stranger,  tell  the  Spartans  that  we  rest 
Hereunder,  still  obeying  their  behest. 

IV 

The  Lion  over  the  Tomb  of  Leonidas 

Of  beasts  am  I,  of  men  was  he  most  brave 
Whose  bones  I  guard,  bestriding  this  his  grave. 


Over  the  Men  of  Tegea 

For  these  men's  valour,  never  smoke  arose 
Nor  flame  from  Tegea  burning  to  the  sky  ; 

Freedom  unblemished  to  their  sons  they  chose 
To  leave,  and  in  the  fighting  line  to  die. 

B  [  17  ] 


VI 

Probably  for  those  "who  fell  in  the  War  with  Sparta, 
which  ended  in  the  Defeat  of  Tegea 

Forget  not  we  the  valiant  lying  here, 
Who  gave  their  lives  for  Tegea's  grassy  down, 

Guarding  their  fatherland,  lest  Hellas  dare 
To  rend  from  brows  departed  Freedom's  crown. 


VII 

On  the  Athenians  who  fell  in  the  War  with 
Chalets  in  Euboea,  504  B.C. 

Hard  by  we  fell,  on  Dirphys'  mountain  slope  ; 

Here  by  the  tide  our  country  raised  our  tomb. 
'Tis  just ;  we  put  aside  youth's  gladsome  hope, 

And  chose  war's  lowering  doom. 


VIII 
On  the  daughter  of  Hippias  son  of  Pisistratus 

The  child  of  Hippias,  foremost  captain  once 
In  Hellas'  land,  lies  here,  Archedike. 

With  lords  for  father,  husband,  brethren,  sons, 
She  lifted  not  her  heart  to  vanity. 


IX 

For  a  Cenotaph 

A  strange  land  holds  thy  bones  ;  the  Euxine  Sea 
Has  brought  thee,  roving  Cleisthenes,  thy  doom. 

No  honey-sweet  returning  was  for  thee, 
Nor  sight  of  thy  sea-girdled  Chian  home. 

[  18] 


On  a  Dog 

Even  thy  white  bones  in  the  tomb,  I  trow, 
The  wild  beasts  fear,  Lycas  my  trusty  hound. 

Thy  worth  famed  Pelion  and  great  Ossa  know, 
And  all  Cithaeron's  lofty  pasture-ground. 


XI 

Simonides  being  at  a  feast  in  Thessaly,  the  attendants 
omitted  to  serve  him  with  the  snow  used  to  cool 
the  drink.  In  order  to  call  his  hosfs  attention,  he 
propounded  the  following  riddle  to  the  company 

On  the  back  of  Olympus  for  mantle  'twas  cast 

By  Thracian  Boreas'  blustering  blast. 

The  cloakless  it  chilled  to  the  marrow  :  behold, 

It  was  buried  alive  in  Pierian  mould. 

Let  them  give  me  my  measure  ;  a  host  will  not  think 

To  serve  a  good  friend  tepid  liquor  to  drink. 


AESCHYLUS 

i 
On  the  Dead  in  an  Unknown  Battle 

These  men  to  ruthless  doom  were  sped, 
Guarding  the  country  of  their  birth  ; 

Yet  lives  the  glory  of  the  dead 
Now  wrapt  in  Ossa's  earth. 


His  Epitaph  on  Himself 

I,  Aeschylus  of  Athens,  buried  lie, 
Euphorion's  son,  in  Gela's  fruitful  land  : 

My  worth  the  long-haired  Mede  can  testify, 
And  the  renowned  Marathonian  strand. 


BACCHYLIDES 

On  a  Shrine  in  a  Cornfield 

Eudemus  raised  within  his  field  this  fane, 
Of  all  the  winds,  to  Zephyr's  bounteous  air, 
Who  came  to  help  in  answer  to  his  prayer, 

And  nimbly  winnowed  from  fat  ears  the  grain. 


PERIOD  II 
THE  ATHENIAN  ASCENDANCY 


PLATO 


On  Aristophanes 

A  fane  to  stand  while  time  shall  roll 
Down  through  the  centuries 

The  Graces  sought — and  found  the  soul 
Of  Aristophanes. 


On  the  Eretrian  Captives  settled  in  Persia  by 
Darius  after  the  War  of  490  B.C. 

Torn  far  from  roar  of  the  Aegean  swell 
In  the  mid  Ecbatanian  plain  lie  we  ; 

Farewell,  old  home  Eretria  ;  farewell 
Athens  her  neighbour  ;  and  farewell,  dear  sea. 

in 

The  Same 

Euboeans  are  we  of  Eretrian  birth, 

Laid  here  in  Susa's  clay  ; 
Alas,  alas  !  from  that  our  native  earth 

How  far  away ! 

IV 

To  Stella 

My  Stella  star-gazing  !    Would  I  could  be 
The  heaven,  with  many  eyes  to  gaze  at  thee. 

[22] 


V 

The  Same 

Stella,  once  on  the  quick  as  Morning  Star 

Thy  light  was  shed  ; 
A  Star  of  Even  now,  thou  shinest  afar 

Upon  the  dead. 


VI 

Kissing  my  love,  upon  my  lip 
My  soul  I  scarce  could  stay  ; 

My  luckless  soul,  that  sought  to  slip 
From  me  away. 


ASCRIBED  TO  PLATO  BUT  OF 
LATER  DATE 

i 
On  a  Rustic  Seat 

Sit  thou  beneath  this  tall  and  vocal  pine, 
With  foliage  ruffled  to  the  wafting  breeze. 

Beside  my  chattering  stream  Pan's  flute  divine 
Shall  lull  thy  charmed  eyes  to  slumberous  ease. 


II 

Silence,  Dryads'  leafy  keep  ; 

Rocky  fountains,  hush  your  spraying  ; 
Hush  your  babble,  bleating  sheep, 

Pan  is  playing,  Pan  is  playing. 

[23  ] 


O'er  the  clustered  reed-pipe  see 
How  his  mellow  lips  are  glancing  ; 

Nymphs  of  fountain,  nymphs  of  tree 
Foot  it  round  him,  dancing,  dancing. 

in 

I  who  laughed  of  old  in  triumph 

Over  Hellas'  youthful  pride, 
I  whose  door  was  thronged  with  lovers 

Swarming  ever  to  my  side, 
Now  I,  Lai's,  vow  my  mirror, 

Queen  of  Paphos,  unto  thee  ; 
What  I  was  of  old  I  cannot, 

What  I  am  I  will  not  see. 


IV 

On  a  Silver  Statuette 

This  Satyr  Diodorus  did  not  make, 

But  lulled  to  sleep  ; 
Touch  not  the  silver,  or  it  will  awake 

From  slumber  deep. 


On  an  Engraved  Gem 

This  little  jasper  shows  you  oxen  five, 
Grazing,  so  true  they  seem  to  be  alive  ; 
They  might  have  wandered  ;  so  the  ring  of  gold 
Makes  for  the  little  herd  a  little  fold. 

VI 

A  thief  who  stole  a  miser's  hoard 
Left  in  its  place  a  noose. 

[24] 


The  miser  came  and  found  the  cord, 
And  put  it  straight  to  use. 


PARRHASIUS   THE   PAINTER 

To  his  Critics 

Though  men  believe  it  not,  this  thing  I  know — 
Art's  utmost  bourne  has  been  achieved  by  me 

Beyond  the  bound  I  set  no  man  can  go  ; 
Yet  is  no  mortal  work  from  cavil  free. 


THUCYDIDES   (?) 

Epitaph  on  Euripides 

All  Greece  is  headstone  to  Euripides  ; 

His  bones  let  Macedon,  his  death-place,  claim  ; 
Athens  his  home,  the  very  Greece  of  Greece  ; 

The  world  his  Muse  delighted  owns  his  fame. 


DEMODOCUS 

Cilicians  all  are  sorry  folk,  of  very  ill  condition, 
Save  Cinyras  ;  and  Cinyras  is  after  all  Cilician. 


[251 


PERIOD  III 
THE    SUPREMACY    OF    ALEXANDRIA 

i 

POETS  OF  GREECE  PROPER  AND  MACEDONIA 


ADDAEUS 


With  weight  of  years  and  yoke  forspent, 
To  no  grim  slaughter-house  was  sent 

The  ox  from  Alcon's  plough. 
His  grateful  master  gives  him  ease 
At  liberty  in  grassy  leas 

To  graze,  and  rest,  and  low. 

II 

There's  a  shrine  at  Potidaea  at  the  parting  of  the 

ways 

To  a  hero,  Philopregmon  is  his  name. 
As  you  pass,  declare  the  purpose  of  your  journey  ;  he 

repays, 
And  will  aid  the  quick  achievement  of  your  aim. 


ANYTE 


On  a  Statue  of  Venus  by  the  Sea 

This  is  Venus'  holy  keep  ; 

Here  it  is  her  joy  to  stand, 
Over  all  the  lucent  deep 

Ever  gazing  from  the  land. 

[28] 


Here  she  bids  the  sailor  cheer, 
Guides  him  to  his  journey's  end  ; 

All  the  tremulous  waves  in  fear 
To  her  radiant  image  bend. 


On  a  Statue  of  Hermes 

Here  in  the  orchard's  breezy  nook 

I  Hermes  stand, 
And  from  the  cross-roads  overlook 

The  plashing  strand. 
Here  to  the  wayfarer  forspent 

Repose  I  bring ; 
Cold  gushing  from  the  earth  is  sent 

A  limpid  spring. 

ill 

On  a  Fountain 

To  farmstead  nymphs  and  shaggy  Pan 
Theodotus  the  husbandman 
This  gift  beneath  the  crag  has  wrought, 
Grateful  because  in  summer  drought 
They  stayed  his  limbs  with  labour  spent, 
And  cool  refreshing  water  sent. 


HEGESIPPUS 

On  a  Shield  dedicated  in  the  Temple  of  Heracles 

Receive  me,  Heracles,  the  shield 
That  once  Philippus  used  to  wield  ; 
That  here,  mid  dance  and  hymn, 

[  29  ] 


Reclined  within  thy  marble  close, 
I  may  grow  old  in  safe  repose, 
Quit  of  war's  charnel  grim. 


PERSES 

On  a  Statue  of  the  God  Tychon 

But  a  little  god  am  I, 
Yet  with  ears  to  hear  you  cry, 
So  you  ask  me  nothing  great, 
Only  as  befits  your  state. 
What  a  lowly  godhead  can 
Promise  to  a  lowly  man, 
Such  a  boon  for  mine  I  claim  ; 
Ask  me  ;  Tychon  is  my  name. 


[30] 


PERIOD  III 
ii 

FOUNDERS  OF  THE  ALEXANDRIAN  SCHOOL 


SIMMIAS 

i 
An  Epitaph  on  Sophocles 

Wind  gently,  ivy,  o'er  the  tomb, 
Gently,  where  Sophocles  is  laid  ; 
Lend  thy  green  tresses  for  a  shade  ; 

Rose-petals  all  about  him  bloom  : 


Twine  thy  lithe  tendrils,  gadding  vine, 
To  praise  the  cunning  of  his  tongue, 
The  notes  in  honeyed  concert  sung 

With  Graces  and  the  Muses  nine. 


II 

Epitaph  on  a  Tame  Decoy-Partridge 

No  more,  poor  partridge,  taught  to  lure 

And  lurk  in  woodland  glade, 
No  more  thy  tuneful  note  shall  sound 

A-ringing  through  the  shade, 
There  in  the  forest  dell  to  tempt 

Thy  dappled  fellows  on  ; 
Thy  last  long  road  is  travelled  now, 

The  road  to  Acheron. 

[  32  I 


ASCLEPIADES 

i 

The  Reveller  in  a  Storm 

Great  God  !   snow,  hail !   make  darkness  !   thunder  ! 

burn  ! 

On  earth  thy  store  of  purpling  storm-clouds  turn  ! 
Slay  me,  and  I  will  cease  ;  but  while  I  live, 
I  revel  on,  though  worse  than  this  thou  give. 
The  god  that  mastered  thee  leads  me  ;  he  drove 
Thee  through  the  brazen  bower  in  gold,  O  Jove. 

II 

Sweet  are  iced  bowls  in  drought ;  to  sailors  sweet 
In  winter's  rear  the  rising  of  the  Crown  ; 

But  sweetest  when  beneath  one  coverlet 
Two  lovers  rapt  the  might  of  Cypris  own. 

ill 

I  am  not  two  and  twenty,  yet  aweary  of  the  sun  ; 
Ah  you  Loves,  why  so  abuse  me  ?  why  sear  me  with 

your  flame  ? 
Will  you  miss  your  helpless  plaything,  little  rogues, 

when  I  am  gone  ? 

Nay  sure,  you'll  go  on  gaming  with  new  knuckle- 
bones for  game. 

IV 

On  a  Shipwrecked  Sailor's  Tomb 

Eight  fathoms  from  me  stay,  unquiet  seas, 

And  boil  and  bluster  noisy  as  you  please. 

Rend  not  my  tomb  ;  there  lies  beneath  these  stones 

No  treasure — just  a  heap  of  dust  and  bones. 


[  33 


V 

To  a  Faithless  Mistress 

That  famous  Nico  swore, 
Swore  by  Demeter,  she  would  come  to-night ; 

She  comes  no  more  ;  the  watch  is  o'er  ; 
She  is  forsworn  ;  put  out  the  light. 

VI 
Of  her  Maidservant 

Be  my  one  witness,  Night ! 
How  Nico's  Pythias,  saucy  wench,  can  flout. 

A  bidden  guest,  I  came  of  right ; 
May  she  yet  curse  thee,  from  my  door  shut  out. 

VII 

He  hangs  his  Wreath  over  the  door  of  his  Beloved 

Hang  here,  my  wreath,  below  the  eaves  ; 
Delay  to  shake  and  drop  your  leaves 
Drenched  with  my  tears — a  lover's  eye 
Is  showerful — till  you  espy 
The  opening  door  ;  then  rain,  that  so 
Those  golden  locks  may  drink  my  woe. 


34 


PERIOD  III 
in 

THE  EARLIER  ALEXANDRIANS  OF  THE 
THIRD  CENTURY  B.C. 


LEONIDAS   OF  TARENTUM 

i 
On  Erinna  the  Poetess 

Erinna,  sweet  young  voice  in  tuneful  bowers, 

A  virgin  bee  that  sipped  the  Muses'  flowers, 

Was  snatched,  Death's  bride  ;  with  foresight  true  she 

saith 
Herself,  "  A  jealous  god  thou  art,  O  Death." 


The  Dead  Shepherd 

Shepherds,  ye  that  haunt  these  rocks 
With  your  goats  and  fleecy  flocks, 
Grant  a  boon  of  simple  worth, 
For  the  sake  of  Mother  Earth 
And  the  Queen  of  Shades  below  ; 
Let  my  sheep  and  kidlings  go 
Bleating,  while  the  gentle  swain 
Pipes  to  them  a  soothing  strain, 
On  a  rustic  hillock  set ; 
Let  my  village  neighbours  met, 
Soon  as  spring  renews  the  bloom, 
Crop  the  meads  to  deck  my  tomb. 
May  the  ewe's  prest  udder  shed 
Sweet  libation  o'er  my  bed. 
E'en  the  dead  have  grace  to  give 
Boons  in  turn  to  them  who  live. 

I  36  ] 


Ill 

Poor  son  !  Woe's  me,  who  laid  thee  on  the  pyre, 

My  only  child,  my  boy  of  eighteen  years, 
In  prime  of  life  laid  low,  my  heart's  desire  ; 

My  widowed  age  is  empty  save  for  tears. 
Would  I  could  pass  within  Death's  gloomy  shade  ; 

Nor  dawn  nor  sun  has  any  light  for  me ; 
My  son  ill-starred,  thy  weeping  mother  aid  ; 

My  Anticles,  take  me  from  life  to  thee. 


IV 

The  Traveller  asks,  the  Tomb  replies 

Who  art  thou,  lady,  'neath  this  carven  stone  ? 

And  what  thy  father's  style  ? 
"  Calliteles  his  name,  Prexo  mine  own." 

And  whence  ?  "  From  Samos'  isle." 
Who  laid  thee  here  ?     "  Theocritus  ;  'twas  he, 

My  spouse,  laid  me  in  earth." 
And  in  what  form  came  cruel  Death  to  thee  ? 

"  He  came  with  pangs  of  birth." 
And  what  thine  age  ?  "  Years  two  and  twenty  told." 

So  thou  art  childless  then  ? 
"  Nay,  my  Calliteles,  three  summers  old, 

Lives  among  living  men." 
Long  may  he  live  till  hale  old  age  he  see  ! 

"  Thanks,  kindly  Sir  ;  kind  be  Fate  too  to  thee." 


Good  sport  to  you,  hunter  or  birdcatcher, 
When  under  my  twin  mountain  top  you  fare  ; 

Call  from  this  cliff  on  Pan  the  Forester  ; 
I'll  join  the  hunt,  whether  with  dog  or  snare. 

[  37  ] 


VI 

'Tis  sailing  time  ;  the  swallows  come 
Twittering,  and  all  the  meadows  bloom  ; 
Soft  Zephyrs  breathe,  now  smile  the  seas, 
Late  tossing  to  the  blustering  breeze. 
Up  anchor  !     Leave  the  wharf  behind, 
Loose  all  your  canvas  to  the  wind. 
I,  Harbour  God  Priapus,  say, 
Sail  on  your  trafficking  away. 


A  Wayside  Pool 

Traveller,  forbear  to  drink  this  tepid  scum 

Drained  from  the  pasture  of  the  kine  ; 
Pass  by  this  hill,  the  heifers'  haunt,  and  come 

—'Tis  but  a  step  —  to  yonder  pine  ; 
There  wilt  thou  find,  sweet  welling  from  below, 
A  spring  more  cool,  more  pure,  than  virgin  snow. 

VIII 

"  Like  an  old  vine  upon  a  standard  sere 
I  lean  upon  my  staff;  Death's  call  is  clear  ; 
Close  not  thine  ears  ;  what  profit  hast  thou  more 
If  thou  behold  three  haysels  yet  or  four?" 
Old  Gorgus  musing  thus  with  ne'er  a  boast, 
Put  life  aside,  and  to  his  fathers  crost. 

IX 

A  Sailor's  Cenotaph 

The  eastern  gale's  wild  and  precipitous  gust, 

Night,  and  Orion  setting  sullenly 
Undid  me  ;  so  was  I  Callaeschrus  thrust 

From  life  while  coursing  o'er  the  Libyan  sea, 

[  38] 


And  now,  the  sport  of  fishes,  welter  I 
Whelmed  in  the  deep  ;  this  tomb  is  but  a  lie. 

x 

A  Little  Boat 

I  cannot  match  the  mighty  hulk 
That  sails  the  Ocean  briny  ; 

I'll  not  deny  it ;  small  my  bulk 
I  know,  my  name  is  "  Tiny." 

Yet  seas  impartial  do  not  reck 
Of  tonnage,  but  behaviour  ; 

My  trust  is  not  in  triple  deck, 
But  Providence  my  saviour. 

XI 

A  Ships  Tragedy 

Full  many  a  league  of  sea  I  sailed, 

Yet  perished  here  by  flame, 
In  harbour,  where  the  native  pines 

Were  felled  to  build  my  frame. 

And  so  the  waves  that  bore  me  hence 

Returned  me  safe  again, 
To  find  the  land  that  gave  me  birth 

More  cruel  than  the  main. 


XII 

To  the  Satyrs  who  love  the  new  vintage, 
To  Bacchus  who  fosters  the  vine, 

Hermonax  here  vows  from  three  vineyards 
Their  fruitage,  three  barrels  of  wine. 

[  39  ] 


Of  the  must  that's  fermenting  within  them 
To  Satyrs  and  Bacchus  we  pour 

The  share  that  is  due  in  their  honour ; 
Then  drink  like  the  Satyrs,  and  more. 


NOSSIS 

Sweeter  is  nothing,  I  know  well, 
Than  Love,  nor  any  other  bliss 
But  yields  to  Love  ;  for  sake  of  this 
My  lips  disdain  sweet  hydromel. 

Lo,  Nossis  says  it — only  those 
Who  once  have  tasted  Cypris'  kiss 

Know  how  her  bowers  bloom  with  rose. 


THEOCRITUS 

• 

i 

On  a  Shrine  to  Venus 

No  common  Cyprian  this  ;  revere  her  name, 
The  Heavenly  Cypris,  Queen  of  Grace  divine  ; 

Behold,  Chrysogone  of  blameless  fame 
Within  her  husband's  house  has  raised  the  shrine. 

Children  and  life  with  Anticles  she  shared  ; 

Each  year  for  them  has  bettered  still  the  past. 
They  prosper  e'er  who  for  the  gods  have  cared  ; 

For  all,  O  Queen,  we  thank  thee  at  the  last. 

[40] 


A  Sacrifice  to  Apollo 

This  clustering  thyme,  these  roses  fresh  with  dew 
Before  the  Heliconian  Nine  I  strew  ; 
For  thee,  great  Pythian  god,  these  glossy  bays, 
Reared  by  the  Delphian  mountains  to  thy  praise. 
Thine  altar  yon  white  goat  shall  stain,  who  now 
Nibbles  the  terebinth's  extremest  bough. 

ill 

Bucolic  Vignettes  :  ( i ) 

On  thy  twin  flutes  wilt  thou  not  music  make 
To  charm  me  ?     I  my  lute  likewise  will  take 
And  touch  the  chords  ;  our  herdsman  Daphnis  too 
Will     concert     breathe    his     wax-bound     reed-pipe 

through. 

Met  in  the  grot  beneath  the  shaggy  steep, 
We'll  rob  goat-footed  Pan  of  all  his  sleep. 

IV  (ii) 

What  boots  it,  luckless  Thyrsis,  thus  to  cry, 
With  tears  to  blind  the  apple  of  thine  eye  ? 
Gone  is  thy  kid,  thy  pretty  plaything,  rent 
By  ruthless  jaw  of  wolf  maleficent. 
The  dogs  may  bay — what  boots  it  ?  Not  a  bone 
Nor  any  shred  remains  whereo'er  to  moan. 

v  (iii) 

These  humble  gifts  to  Pan  devotes 
Daphnis  the  fair,  who  trills  his  notes 

Upon  the  pastoral  pipe — 
His  tuneful  reeds,  his  fawn-skin  cloak, 
His  javelin  sharp,  and  crook,  and  poke 

That  held  his  apples  ripe. 


vi  (iv) 

Daphnis,  on  leaf-strown  earth  thou  sleep's!  forspent 

Resting,  thy  stake-nets  on  the  hill  new  bent. 

But  Pan  hunts  thee,  Priapus  too,  who  weaves 

His  head  divine  with  pallid  ivy  leaves. 

They're  entering  now  thy  cave  ;  up,  up  !  and  flee  ; 

Shake  off  the  drowsihead  that  masters  thee. 


VII 

For  his  Friend  Nicias  the  Physician  and  Poet  of 
Miletus,  who  was  dedicating  an  Image  ofAsclepius 
in  his  Temple 

Even  to  Miletus  came  Paieon's  son, 

To  aid  his  leech  in  curing  human  ills, 
To  Nicias,  who  this  grace  divine  hath  won 

With  daily  incense  that  the  temple  fills. 
To  carve  this  image  of  sweet  cedar-wood 

He  bade  Eetion's  hand  its  cunning  use, 
Giving  him  rich  largesse,  that  so  he  should 

Into  his  limning  all  his  art  infuse. 


CALLIMACHUS 


His  Literary  Ideal 

I  detest  the  cyclic  poem,  I  delight  not  in  the  way 
That  carries  hither,  thither  all  the  traffic  of  the  day  ; 
I  loathe  a  hackneyed  beauty,  and  never  will  I  drink 
At  the  public  drinking-fount ;   from  all  banality 
shrink. 

[  42  ] 


II 

On  One  who  abandoned  Poetry  for  Philosophy 

Our  Theaetetus  chose  the  narrow  way  ; 

But  though  it  lead 
Not  to  thy  ivy,  Bacchus,  nor  the  bay, 

The  poet's  meed ; 

Yet  heralds  can  but  blazen  forth  a  name 

Of  brief  renown ; 
In  him  for  ever  Hellas  owns  the  fame 

Of  Wisdom's  crown. 


Ill 

A  Mother's  Vow  to  Artemis  after  Childbirth 

Come  yet  once  more,  Lucina,  when  I  pray, 
To  soothe  a  mother's  pain  in  mother's  joy  ; 

This  gift  is  for  a  girl ;  may  one  some  day 
Adorn  thy  fragrant  temple  for  a  boy. 


IV 

".  .  .  he  who  to  enjoy 
Platds  Elysium,  leapt  into  the  sea, 
Cleombrotus  " 

MILTON,  P.  L.,  iii.  471 

Ambracian  Cleombrotus 

Stood  on  a  tower's  height, 
And  bade  good-bye  to  earth,  and  sprang, 

And  passed  to  endless  night. 
He  had  no  quarrel  with  his  life, 

No  misery  to  thole, 
But  he  had  studied  in  one  book — 

Plato  upon  the  Soul. 

[  43  ] 


V 

An  Epitaph 

Here  Saon,  Dicon's  son,  the  Acanthian,  lies 
In  holy  sleep  ;  say  not  the  good  man  dies. 

VI 

On  a  Shipwrecked  Sailor 

Stranger  unknown  !     Leo  thy  body  found 
Stretched  on  the  shore,  and  laid  thee  in  a  grave, 

Weeping  his  own  frail  life  ;  he  too  is  bound, 
Unresting  like  the  gulls,  to  skim  the  wave. 

VII 

On  a  Young  Girl 

Crethis,  their  first  in  tale  or  play, 
Sorely  the  Samian  maidens  weep  ; 

Their  pretty  taskmate,  prattler  gay, 
Sleeps,  as  must  they,  her  fated  sleep. 

VIII 

A  Dedication 

I  am  a  bronzen  game-cock — thus 

My  donor  says,  Euaenetus  ; 

For  of  myself  I  know  not  aught — 

Unto  the  Great  Twin  brethren  wrought, 

In  gratitude  for  victory  won  ; 

I  take  the  word  of  Phaedrus'  son. 

IX 
The  Distraught  Lover 

Our  friend  is  smarting  from  some  wound 
In  secret ;  hark,  that  sigh  profound  ! 

[44] 


By  his  third  cup  the  roses  shed 
Their  wilted  petals  from  his  head. 
He's  got  it  hard  !     I  know  that  grief 
By  sad  experience.     "  Set  a  thief!  " 


A  Votive  Tablet  in  the  Temple  of  Asclepius 

The  debt  I  owed  you  for  my  wife 
Demodice  restored  to  life 
Is  paid  ;  Asclepius,  admit 
That  you  and  Akeson  are  quit. 
So  if  again  by  negligence 

You  claim  your  fee  and  send  the  bill, 

This  tablet  promises  it  will 
Put  itself  in  for  evidence. 


XI 

A  Votive  Lamp  in  the  Temple  of  Canopus 

This  lamp,  with  twenty  wicks  endowed, 
Has  Critias'  Callistion  vowed 

Over  Apellis  her  daughter 
Unto  Canopus'  deity. 
You'll  cry,  when  all  my  flame  you  see, 

"  How  art  thou  fallen,  O  Lucifer  ! " 


XII 

I  know  my  hands  are  bare  of  gold  ; 

For  Heaven's  sake,  my  dear, 
Chant  not  the  too  familiar  tale 

For  ever  in  my  ear. 

[45  ] 


I'm  sick  at  heart  when  all  day  long 

I  hear  the  bitter  jest ; 
Of  all  thy  qualities,  my  love, 

This  is  unloveliest. 


MOERO 


On  a  Bunch  of  Grapes  offered  to  Aphrodite 

Lie  in  the  hall  of  Aphrodite  golden, 

Ye  clustered  grapes,  with  Bacchus'  juice  replete  ; 
No  more  with  tendrils  fond  about  you  folden 

Your  mother-vine  wreathes  o'er  you  foliage  sweet. 

II 

On  Statues  of  Nymphs  in  a  Grove 

Nymphs  of  Anigrus,  daughters  of  the  river, 
Who  through  the  flood  with  rosy  footing  rove, 

All  hail !     Protect  Cleonymus,  the  giver 
Of  your  fair  statues  in  this  piny  grove. 


NICAENETUS 

i 

A  Revel  in  Santos 

Not  in  city  nor  town  shall  our  banquet  be  strown, 
In  the  meadow  our  revel  shall  be  ; 

[46] 


We'll  feast,  Philotherus,  with  Zephyr  to  cheer  us  ; 
A  couch  in  the  open  for  me  ! 

There  is  store  of  wild  willows  to  make  us  our  pillows, 

And  osiers  to  garland  our  hair 
In  the  old-fashioned  style  of  our  Carian  isle  ; 

And  goblet  and  wine  shall  be  there. 

With  a  goblet  of  wine  and  the  lyre  of  the  Nine 
We  will  chant  the  great  Consort  of  Jove, 

And  take  our  full  pleasure  and  drink  in  full  measure 
The  Queen  of  the  island  we  love. 


II 

An  Epitaph 

Biton  lies  here  ;  wayfarer,  passing  on 
Hence  from  Torone  to  Amphipolis, 

Go  tell  Nicagoras  his  only  son 
At  the  Kids'  setting  sank  in  the  abyss. 


RHIANUS 

Surely  the  Graces  caught  you  once  in  a  narrow  place, 
And  twined  their  rosy  arms  about  you,  and  made  you 

a  Grace  ! 
I  hail  you,  and  stand  afar ;  the  peril,  my  dear,  were 

dire 
Did  a  heart  of  inflammable  tinder  draw  too  near  to 

the  fire. 

[  47  ] 


THEODORIDES 

On  a  Tomb  by  the  Shore 

I  am  a  shipwrecked  mariner  ; 

But  good  voyage  to  you  ; 
For  when  I  sank,  the  other  ships 

All  came  safely  through. 


MNASALCAS 

i 

When  their  land  groaned  beneath  a  tyrant  crew, 
These  men  to  save  it  donned  a  robe  of  clay, 

And  won  great  glory.     Let  their  fellows  too 
Learn  to  die  for  their  country  even  as  they. 

II 
On  the  Death  of  a  Fowler 

Henceforth  the  bird  may  rest  her  wing, 
On  this  fresh  plane-tree  safely  perched  ; 

Poemander  lives  no  more  to  swing 

His  fowling-rods  with  lime  besmirched. 

ill 

An  Autumn  Vignette 
Why  hasten,  vine,  to  shed  thy  foliage  sere  ? 

Fear's!  thou  the  Pleiad  sinking  in  the  west? 
Linger  to  shade  Antileon  slumbering  here, 

And  to  the  fairest  offer  still  thy  best. 

I  48  ] 


IV 

A  Statue  of  Artemis  in  a  Wood 

Cleonymus  erected  this 
Thine  image,  goddess  Artemis  ; 
Reign  o'er  this  teeming  game-forest 
Which  oft  thine  eager  feet  have  prest, 
Where  from  the  leafy  hill  resounds 
Thy  cheery  call  to  questing  hounds. 


MOSCHUS 

On  a  Gem  representing  Cupid  ploughing 

Love  laid  aside  his  torch  and  bow, 

And  grasped  a  goad  to  guide  the  plough, 

Two  sturdy  bulls  beneath  the  yoke  ; 
A  wallet  on  his  back  he  bound, 
And  set  himself  to  till  the  ground, 

And  looked  to  Jove  aloft,  and  spoke  : 
"  Jove,  you  must  give  me  harvest  full, 
Or  I  shall  yoke  Europa's  bull." 


DIOTIMUS 

i 

A  Thunderstorm  in  the  Hills 

Untended,  white  with  driven  snow, 
Down  from  the  hills  the  cattle  go 
Back  to  their  stalls  at  even  ; 

[  49  ] 


Their  herdsman  sleeps  beneath  the  oak 
His  long  last  sleep,  stilled  by  the  stroke 
Of  the  red  fire  of  heaven. 

II 
A  Mother's  Epitaph 

What  joy  is  there  of  motherhood, 

What  profit  in  the  womb  ? 
Better  ne'er  bear  a  child  than  weep 

A  child's  untimely  doom. 

His  mother,  I,  within  this  grave 

My  boy  Bianor  laid, 
The  grave  that  fitlier  the  son 

Had  for  his  mother  made. 


THEAETETUS 


An  Epitaph 

By  Friendship's  God  !     All  seamen  sailing  near, 
Ariston  of  Cyrene  bids  you  hear  ! 
Tell  his  sire  Menon,  by  the  Icarian  steep 
He  welters  whelmed  in  the  Aegean  deep. 

II 

On  the  Philosopher  Grantor 

Beloved  of  men,  loved  of  the  Muses  more, 
Died  Grantor  ere  his  term  of  age  was  o'er. 
Earth,  did  the  good  man  come  to  end  in  thee, 
Or  lives  he  yonder  in  felicity  ? 

[  So  ] 


Ill 

On  a  Votive  Relief  of  Two  Children 

God  bless  you,  pretty  children  !     Whose  are  you,  and 

what  your  race  ? 
What  pretty  name  does  each   one  bear,  to   suit  a 

pretty  face  ? 

"  Nicanor  I  am  called,  and  I  am  Aepioretus'  son  ; 
Hegeso  is  my  mother,  and  I  come  from  Macedon." 
"  And  I  am  little  Phila,  and  this  my  brother  dear ; 
In  fulfilment  of  our  parents'  vow  we  both  are  standing 

here." 


PERIOD  III 

IV 

THE  LATER  ALEXANDRIANS  OF  THE 
SECOND  CENTURY  B.C. 


ALCAEUS    OF    MESSENE 


On  Marsyas 

Never  in  Phrygia's  piny  dells  again 

Thy  well-pierced  reeds  shall  pour  their  dulcet  strain 

No  more,  O  Satyr,  to  thy  fingering 

Tritonian  Pallas'  handiwork  shall  sing. 

Thy  wrists  are  bound  with  thongs  and  hung  on  high, 

For  thou,  a  mortal,  wouldst  with  Phoebus  vie. 

The  flute  that  erst  piped  lyre-like  to  thy  breath 

Won  thee  in  contest  but  the  crown  of  death. 

II 

To  Pan 

Breathe,  Mountain  Pan,  a  joyous  note 
On  rustic  pipes  from  ample  throat ; 
Pour  from  glad  reeds  thy  tune,  inspire 
To  concert  sweet  the  harmonious  quire  ; 
The  water  nymphs  around  shall  glance 
With  cadence  true  in  rhythmic  dance. 


DIONYSIUS 

Epitaph  on  Eratosthenes 

No  wasting  sickness,  but  long  years  of  peace 
Laid  thee  to  slumber,  Eratosthenes. 

[54] 


Thinker  profoundest,  brought  to  thy  long  rest 
Not  with  thy  sires,  on  thy  Gyrene's  breast, 
But  here,  a  friend,  though  in  a  stranger  land, 
Thou  hast  thy  tomb  on  Proteus'  fringe  of  sand. 


DIOSCORIDES 


The  Origin  of  Tragedy 

I,  Thespis,  was  the  first  to  mould 

The  revellers'  goat-song  known  of  old, 

And  lend  it  tragic  graces  new, 

When  Bacchus  led  his  vintage  crew, 

While  yet  for  rustic  prize  was  set 

A  goat  and  Attic  fig-basket. 

Now  times  are  changed,  old  ways  outgrown  ; 

New  men,  new  modes  ;  mine  are  my  own. 


An  Epitaph 

A  Lydian,  aye,  a  Lydian  slave  ; 
Yet,  master,  thou  didst  kindly  lay 
Him  who  o'erwatched  thy  childhood's  way 

To  rest  him  in  a  free  man's  grave. 

Long  mayst  thou  live,  and  happily  ; 
And  when  in  time  thou  too  must  come 
To  join  me  in  my  narrow  home, 

Still,  master,  I  thy  slave  will  be. 

[55] 


Ill 

An  Epitaph 

In  me  the  wife  of  Archelaus  see, 
The  child  of  sorrowing  Demarete 
And  Theodectes,  me  foredoomed  to  know 
Nothing  of  motherhood  except  the  woe. 
My  babe  was  taken  ere  he  yet  had  seen 
A  score  of  days  ;  myself  at  years  eighteen, 
Scarcely  a  mother,  scarce  indeed  a  bride, 
In  piteous  immaturity  I  died. 


ANTIPATER   OF  SIDON 

i 

Orpheus 

Orpheus,  no  more  the  charmed  oaks 
Obey  thy  lyre,  nor  stubborn  rocks 

Nor  beasts  that  range  the  lea  ; 
No  blast  of  wind  thou  soothest  now, 
Nor  hail  nor  any  gust  of  snow, 

Nor  the  resounding  sea. 

And  Memory's  daughters  all  made  moan 
At  thy  decease,  and  chiefly  one, 

The  Muse  who  gave  thee  breath. 
Why  do  we  for  our  children  wail, 
When  even  the  gods  may  not  avail 

To  save  their  sons  from  death  ? 

[  56] 


II 

Homer 

Herald  of  heroes,  Hellas'  other  sun, 

Mouthpiece  of  Heaven,  light  of  the  Muses'  band, 
Homer,  the  world's  undying  clarion, 

Lies  buried  in  the  drifting  sea-board  sand. 

in 
Anacreon 

Stranger,  for  this  poor  tomb  a  boon  I  crave  ; 

Pour  on  Anacreon's  dust  a  draught  of  wine  ; 
Refresh  my  bones  with  vintage  in  the  grave, 

If  ever  pleasure  from  my  Muse  was  thine. 
Once  I  was  dear  to  Bacchus'  tipsy  rout, 

Once  foremost  minstrel  of  the  revelling  crew  ; 
Let  me  not  suffer  here  in  endless  drought 

The  dreary  penance  to  all  mortals  due. 

IV 
Pindar 

Even  as  the  rustic  flute 
Is  overborne  by  the  loud  clarion's  ring, 

So,  Pindar,  doth  thy  lute 
Imperial  the  common  quire  outsing. 

Surely  'twas  not  for  naught 
That  to  thy  childish  lips  the  buzzing  brood 

Their  garnered  honey  brought, 
And  stored  with  thee  their  wax-encrusted  food. 

Great  Pan  thy  witness  is, 
The  horned  god  of  Maenalus,  who  heeds 

Only  thy  melodies, 
And  all  forgetful  drops  his  pastoral  reeds. 

[57  ] 


V 

On  a  Dead  Af other 

Sure,  when  upon  Cocytus'  shore 

Thou  steppedst  from  the  boat  that  bore 

Thee  with  its  weeping  freight, 
A  babe  upon  thy  tender  breast, 
The  Dorian  matrons  round  thee  prest, 

And  pitying  asked  thy  fate. 

Then,  Aretemias,  thou  didst  tear 

Thy  cheeks,  and  'mid  thy  tears  declare 

Thy  lamentable  woe ; 

"  Twin  babes,  kind  friends,  I  brought  to  birth  ; 
One  with  my  Euphron  stayed  on  earth, 

One  comes  with  me  below." 

VI 
On  a  Dog 

Lampo,  the  hound  of  Midas,  died  of  drought, 
Though  long  and  bravely  for  his  life  he  fought. 
His  paws  dug  the  moist  spot ;  but  all  too  slow 
Did  water  from  the  hidden  runlet  flow. 
Worn  out,  he  fell ;  then  sprang  the  fountain  clear  ; 
Nymphs,  ye  revenged  on  him  your  stricken  deer. 

VII 

On  an  Ant 

Busy  toilsome  hapless  ant, 
For  thy  sepulchre  I  plant 
Next  the  barn  a  crumbled  clod  ; 
So  shall  Ceres'  fertile  sod 
Offer  thee  a  rustic  bed, 
Cheer  thee  as  thou  liest  dead. 

[58] 


VIII 

On  a  Maid  who  died  on  the  Eve  of  Marriage 

In  the  golden  bridal  chamber  was  spread  the  saffron 

bed 
Where    Clearete    the    virgin    Pitanaean    should    be 

led; 
Her  parents  looked  to  see  the  day  when  they  should 

wave  on  high 
In   either  hand  the  wedding  torch  upflaring  to  the 

sky. 
Poor  Demo  and  Nicippus  !     There  befel  a  sickness 

sore, 
And  far  away  the  maid  was  swept  to  Lethe's  ocean 

shore. 
The  companions  of  her  girlhood  had  wail  in  place  of 

jest, 
And  for  beating  of  the  chamber-door  was  beating  of 

the  breast. 


IX 

On  a  Sailor  drowned  in  Harbour 

Sea  is  everywhere  sea  !     What  profits  it  to  complain 
Of  Cyclades  or  the  Needles  or  Hellespont's  narrow 

lane  ? 
Names  of  terror,  no  more,  are  they  ;  for  from  them  I 

sped 
Safely,  only  that  Scarphe's  haven  should  swallow  me 

dead. 
Well  may  men  pray  for  happy  return  !     But  the  ways 

of  the  wave 
Are  ever  the  same,  full  well  Aristagoras  knows  in  his 

grave. 

[  59] 


The  Seven  Wonders  of  the  World 

Zeus  carved  beside  Alpheus  I  have  seen, 

And  seen  the  beetling  walls  of  Babylon 
Where  chariots  drive  ;  the  hanging  gardens  green, 

The  towering  Colossus  of  the  Sun  ; 
The  toilsome  bulk  of  lofty  pyramids, 

And  King  Mausolus'  giant  monument ; 
Yet  have  I  seen  one  wonder  that  outbids 

All  these,  up-climbing  to  the  cloudy  tent ; — 
Artemis'  fane  !     Beneath  Olympus'  height 
The  sun  himself  sees  no  such  other  sight. 

XI 

A  Wool-weaver  dedicates  her  Implements 

Pallas,  accept  this  weaver's  comb, 
The  tuneful  halcyon  of  the  loom, 
That  ever  at  the  break  of  day 
Sang  to  the  swallows'  morning  play  ; 
This  distaff  heavy-headed,  twirled 
To  spin  the  thread  incessant  curled  ; 
These  clews  ;  the  distaff-loving  creel 
That  guards  the  woven  web  ;  the  reel. 
Industrious  Telesilla  brings, 
Diodes'  child,  these  offerings 
To  thee,  goddess  of  wool-weavings. 

XII 

The  Pilofs  Death 

Through  raging  snow  and  tempest  dark 
Damis  of  Nysa  steered  his  bark 
From  danger  of  the  Ionian  main 
Unscathed  to  Pelops'  land  again. 

[60] 


With  passengers  all  sound  and  well 

The  ship  was  saved,  the  anchor  fell ; 

The  aged  pilot  bowed  his  head 

Benumbed  with  cold,  and  straight  was  dead. 

Glad  harbourage  for  others  won, 

To  Hades'  haven  he  was  gone. 

XIII 

A  Fisherman 's  Dedication 
This  remnant  of  a  wandering  sea-serpent 
Hermonax  found  when,  on  his  fishing  bent, 
He  drew  his  drag-net  from  the  sea  to  land, 
And  saw  this  lying  battered  on  the  sand, 
Torn  by  the  rocks,  by  tattering  billows  flung  ; 
And  so  to  I  no  and  Palaemon  young 
This  twice  four  fathoms'  length  in  vow  he  gave, 
The  waves'  marvel  to  godheads  of  the  wave. 

XIV 

Sailing  in  Spring 
Now  the  tossing  ship  may  sail, 
No  wave  glooms  shivering  with  the  gale  ; 
The  swallow  builds  beneath  the  eaves, 
The  copses  laugh  with  tender  leaves. 
Now  at  your  capstans  haul  away, 
Lift  the  sunk  anchor  from  the  clay  ; 
Spread  the  white  sail ;  Priapus  thus 
Commands  you,  son  of  Bromius. 

xv 

His  Plan  of  Life 
The  prophets  tell  me  I  must  die 

In  early  youth. 

Well,  well,  Seleucus,  what  care  I 
Though  this  be  truth  ? 

[  61  ] 


Some  day  we  all  must  pass  below  ; 

If  I  am  sped 
Sooner,  the  sooner  shall  I  know 

The  mighty  dead. 

Bring  wine  !    The  bowl  shall  be  my  horse 

Upon  the  road, 
To  make  more  light  the  weary  course 

By  footmen  trod. 


ARISTON 

The  Poor  Scholar 

Mice,  if  you  come  for  food,  depart ! 

My  humble  cell  is  bare, 
Cream-cheese  and  figs  and  luscious  tart, 

These  you  must  seek  elsewhere. 
But  if  you  dare  again  dishevel 
My  books,  I'll  make  you  rue  your  revel. 


HERMOCREON 

i 

On  a  Fountain  in  the  Courtyard  of  his  House 

Ye  Water-nymphs,  to  you  Hermocreon  vows 
This  basin  for  the  crystal  spring  he  found. 

Welcome  !    With  gracious  feet  enter  his  house 
And  bid  his  court  with  beverage  pure  abound. 

[62  ] 


II 
A  Statue  of  Hermes  in  a  Grove 

Beneath  this  plane-tree,  traveller,  take  thy  cheer, 
Where  gentle  Zephyr  rustles  through  the  leaves  ; 

Nicagoras  hath  set  my  statue  here  ; 
I  Hermes  am,  and  guard  the  flocks  and  sheaves. 


TYMNES 

i 
On  a  Dead  Linnet 

Pretty  linnet,  art  thou  gone  ? 
Gone,  the  Graces'  dear  delight, 

Voice  that  matched  the  halcyon, 
Daintiness  and  music  bright, 
Flown  to  silent  ways  of  night. 

II 

An  Epitaph  on  an  Egyptian  buried  in  Crete 

Grieve  not  too  sore  to  have  thy  last  abode, 
Philainis,  far  away  from  Nile  and  home, 
In  Eleutherne  here  ;  one  equal  road 
From  everywhence  leads  downward  through  the 
tomb. 

HI 
On  a  Maltese  Dog 

A  Maltese  lies  this  stone  below, 
Eumelus'  watch-dog,  "Bully"  hight, 

Most  trusty  friend  ;  his  barking  now 
Is  for  the  silent  ways  of  night 

[63  ] 


ARISTODICUS 

On  a  Pet  Cicada 

No  more,  shrill  cricket,  in  rich  Alkis'  court 
Is  heard  thy  voice  ;  no  light  of  sun  for  thee. 

Now  through  the  meads  of  Hades  dost  thou  sport 
And  dewy  flowers  of  Queen  Persephone. 


MELEAGER 

i 
His  Poems  to  Heliodora  (Doris) 

I  will  twine  soft  daffodilly, 
Violet  white  with  myrtle  wed, 

Saffron  sweet  and  laughing  lily, 
Bluebells,  true-love  roses  red ; 

So  shall  my  crown  with  petals  strow 

The  fragrant  locks  on  Doris'  brow. 


II 

My  crown  on  Doris'  ringlets  pines  ; 
Crown  of  the  crown  my  Doris  shines. 


Ill 

In  my  heart's  core  my  sweet-voiced  Doris  stands, 
Soul  of  my  soul,  moulded  by  Love's  own  hands. 

[64] 


IV 

Pour  me  to  her,  and  pour  once  more, 
Mingling  the  lovely  name,  and  say  : 
"  Here's  to  the  name  of  Heliodore  !  " 
Set  on  my  brow  the  wreath  she  wore, 
Faint  with  the  fragrance  of  yesterday — 
Yesterday  ! — to  mind  me  of  her. 
The  true-love  rose  is  weeping,  see, 
To  find  her  gone  and  away  from  me, 
Her  arms  no  more  about  her  lover. 

v 

She's   kidnapped  !      Gone  !      What  miscreant  could 
dare 

To  war  on  Love,  and  wreak  such  monstrous  ill? 
Bring  torches,  quick  !     But  hark,  a  step  !  she's  there  ; 

My  Doris  comes  ;  O  throbbing  heart,  be  still. 

VI 

O  Night !  O  sleepless  heartache  of  despair  ! 

O  jealous  day-break's  tearful-joyous  charms  ! 
Thinks  Heliodora  yet  of  me,  and  e'er 

With  mindful  kisses  my  cold  semblance  warms  ? 
Are  tears  her  bedfellows  ?     Does  she  embrace 

In  dreams  my  phantom  vision  ?     Or  has  she 
New  playthings,  other  loves?     Lamp,  hide  thy  face, 

Or  keep  her  as  I  trusted  her  to  thee. 

VII 

Flower-sipping  honey-bee,  why,  lit 
On  Heliodora's  hand,  dost  quit 

The  buds  of  spring  ? 
Is  this  the  message  thou  dost  bring, 


That  not  alone  the  honeydew 
Is  hers,  but  that  she  carries  too 
Love's  cruel  dart  to  wound  the  heart, 

The  intolerable  sting  ? 
Yes,  yes,  'tis  that ;  thy  tale  is  told  ; 

Begone,  begone,  Love's  myrmidon  ; 
Thy  tale  is  true,  but  oh  !  so  old. 

VIII 

My  sweet-voiced  Heliodora  shall,  say  I, 
In  legend  e'en  the  Graces'  grace  outvie. 

IX 

To  Our  Lady  of  Suasion  pour, 

Heliodore ! 
To  Cypris  the  Queen  once  more — 

Heliodore  ! 

To  the  Goddess  of  Gracious  Word 
Pour  me  a  third — 

Heliodore  ! 


One  in  my  heart  I  enroll, 
Three  one  deity  sole  ; 
Mingle  in  unmixed  wine 
One  name  adorable,  thine, 
Heliodore  ! 


Her  Epitaph 

I  send  thee,  Heliodora,  to  pass  to  thee  below, 
My  tears,  the  last  sad  gift  to  Death  that  Love  may 
yet  bestow. 

[66] 


On  thy  tomb  for  my  libation  fall  my  bitter  tears  and 

hot 

Of  unforgot  affection,  of  yearnings  unforgot. 
Sore,    very  sore  his   lost   one    doth    thy    Meleager 

mourn, 
Speeding  the  fruitless  comfort  to  the  realm  of  death 

forlorn. 
Where  is  she  now,  my  darling?    Ah  me,  the  angel 

passed 
And  plucked,  and  lo  !  my  floweret  fresh  down  in  the 

dust  was  cast. 
Earth,  generous-hearted  mother,  I  pray,  my  treasure 

hold, 
And  gently  to  thy  bosom  my  Heliodora  fold. 


XI 

Poems  to  Zeno  (Zenophtle)  (\) 

The  cup  is  happy,  for  it  saith 
That  it  hath  tasted  Zeno's  breath, 

The  while  she  drank  and  laughed. 
Ah,  lucky  cup  !     Would  Zeno's  lip 
Were  set  to  mine,  my  soul  to  sip 

And  drink  it  at  a  draught. 


XII  (ii) 

Now  bloom  the  violets,  now  the  daffodils 
Shower-loving,  now  the  lilies  range  the  hills  ; 
Now  blooms  the  flower  of  all  the  flowery  quire, 
My  Zeno,  sweet  red  rose  of  heart's  desire. 
You  meads,  why  idly  laugh  in  your  gay  tresses  ? 
Sweeter  than  all  your  wreaths  my  bonnie  lass  is. 

[67  ] 


XIII 

Cupid  at  Auction  (iii) 

For  sale  !    Who'll  buy  ?    See  him  lie 
On  his  mother's  lap  asleep, 
Too  pert  a  rogue  for  me  to  keep. 

A  saucy  nose,  wings — and  those 
Nails  can  scratch,  and  he  can  smile 
Wicked  smiles,  and  weep  the  while. 

Chatterbox,  crafty  fox, 
Keen-eyed,  obstinate  and  wild, 
His  mother's  self  can't  tame  the  child. 

A  monster  !  So  he  must  go. 
Is  any  outbound  merchant  nigh 
Who  wants  a  boy  ?  Come  buy,  come  buy  ! 

And  yet — and  yet — his  eyes  are  wet, 
Beseeching  ;  no,  I  cannot  sell ! 
Stay,  boy,  and  with  my  Zeno  dwell. 


XIV 
Cupid  a  Runaway  (iv) 

Lost  a  boy  !     A  runaway  ! 

Raise  the  hue  and  cry  O  ! 
From  his  bed  at  break  of  day 

Naughty  Love  did  fly  O  ! 
Fleet  he  is,  a  quiver  bears, 

Wings  upon  his  shoulder  ; 
Saucy  laugh  and  dainty  tears  ; 

None  can  chatter  bolder. 
What  his  country  none  can  tell, 

Nor  his  sire  before  him  ; 
Land  and  sea  and  heaven  and  hell 

Swear  they  never  bore  him. 

[68] 


All  disown  him,  all  detest ; 

Hurry  !     While  you're  staying 
Sure  the  rascal  in  some  breast 

Other  snares  is  laying. 
Ho,  you  rogue  !     I  spy  your  lair  ! 

Now  you  cannot  fly,  sir, 
Lurking  with  your  arrows  there 

In  my  Zeno's  eye,  sir  ! 


xv  (v) 

Go,  little  gnat,  and  seek 
My  Zeno,  quick  my  message  bear, 

And  lighting  on  her  cheek 
Whisper  in  her  ear, 
"  Sleepless  thy  lover  waits  thee  yet ; 
And  wilt  thou  linger  and  forget?" 
Now  go,  my  tuneful  herald,  go  ; 

Only  beware 

Lest  someone  sleeping  nigh 
Thou  rouse  to  jealousy  ; 

So  whisper  low ; 

And  if  thou  bring'st  me  back  my  fair, 
I  promise  thee  a  lion's  skin  to  wear, 
And  a  club  for  thy  hand  to  bear. 


XVI  (vi) 

By  Pan  Arcadian  !     Zeno,  with  sweet  sound, 
Yea,  very  sweet,  thy  harping  ravisheth  ; 

How  shall  I  flee  thee  !     Cupids  throng  me  round, 
And  leave  me  not  a  moment's  space  for  breath. 

Is  it  thy  form  or  song,  whereto  I  yearn  ? 

Thy  grace  ?  Thy ?  Nay,  'tis  all.     I  burn,  I  burn  ! 

[69] 


xvn  (vii) 

I  would  that  I  were  wingless  Sleep, 

My  pretty  sweeting, 
Over  thine  eyelids  watch  to  keep, 

About  thee  fleeting. 

So  the  Sleep  God  who  conquers  Jove 

Should  ne'er  behold  thee, 
But  all  alone  in  dreams  of  love 

I  would  enfold  thee. 


XVIII 

Chloe,  those  eyes  like  rippled  light 

Upon  a  tranquil  sea 
The  lonely  wayfarer  invite, 

"  Come  love-sailing  with  me." 

XIX 

O'er  the  wild  sea  of  revelry 

Where  am  I  drifting  ? 
Swept  on  by  Love's  relentless  tide, 

Prey  to  the  shifting 
Unresting  gusts  of  jealousy, 

Helpless  my  steering, 
Once  more  to  dainty  doom  I  ride, 

My  Scylla  nearing. 

XX 

To  Timarion 

Cupid,  lo,  a  prisoner  lies, 
Tangled  as  he  winged  the  skies 
In  the  lashes  of  thine  eyes. 

[  70] 


XXI 

To  the  Same 

Timo,  birdlime  is  thy  kiss, 

And  thy  glance  a  fiery  torch  ; 

Where  thou  lookest  thou  dost  scorch, 
Whoso  touches  tangled  is. 

XXII 

Demo's  ringlet,  Doris'  shoe-tie, 

Time's  perfumed  bowers, 
Anticlea's  radiant  beauty, 

Dorothy's  wreath  of  flowers, 
Cupid,  all  thy  darts  are  spent, 

Let  thy  empty  quiver  fall ; 
See  thy  barbed  armament 

Buried  in  my  bosom  all. 

XXIII 

Dawn,  lovers'  bane,  oh  why 
So  soon,  while  yet  I  lie 

Warm  on  my  Demo's  breast  ? 
Turn  back,  and  evening  be  ; 
For  thy  sweet  light  to  me 

Is  bitterest. 

Of  old,  when  for  Alcmene  burned 
High  Zeus,  thy  steps  were  backward  turned  ; 
Motion  reverse  thou  well  hast  learned. 

XXIV 

Dawn,  lovers'  bane,  oh  why  so  slow 
On  thy  world-circuit  dost  thou  go, 

Now  Demo  with  another  toys? 
Too  quick  of  old,  when  she  was  mine, 
Did  thy  malignant  radiance  shine, 

Only  to  mock  my  joys. 


XXV 

Hail,  Star  of  Morn  !     But  come  back  soon,  not  now 

Herald  of  day, 
But  Evening  Star,  to  bring  back  her  whom  thou 

Takest  away. 

XXVI 

Souls  are  butterflies,  they  say ; 

If  you  singe  their  flutterings 
Once  too  oft,  they  fly  away  ; 

Cruel  Love,  souls  too  have  wings. 

XXVII 

Three  are  the  sweet  girl  Hours,  the  Graces  three  ; 

Three  cruel  charmers  pelt  me  with  their  darts  ; 
Love  bends  three  bows,  as  though  he  saw  in  me 

Not  one  heart  to  be  wounded,  but  three  hearts. 

XXVIII 

Go,  Dorcas,  tell  Lycainis  her  veneer 

Of  love  is  sham  ;  and  time  makes  all  shams  clear. 

Go,  tell  her,  Dorcas — tell  it,  tell  it  twice  : 

Mind,  tell  it  all ;  be  off,  and  tell  it  thrice. 

No  lingering,  fly  !     Here  !     Stop  a  minute.     Hold  ! 

Why  hurry  off  before  the  whole  is  told? 

Just  add  that — no,  I  mean  that — I  don't  know — 

Don't  say  a  word — but  just — tell  all.     So  go  ! 

Be  sure  you  tell  it  all !     But  why  send  you, 

Dorcas,  when  I  myself  am  going  too? 

XXIX 

To  a  Caged  Cicada 

Grasshopper,  charm  for  sleepless  night, 
Grasshopper,  balm  for  love's  despite, 
Muse  of  the  fields  of  spring, 


72 


Nature's  own  harper,  tune  thy  lay 
To  love,  thy  pretty  foot  let  play 

On  thy  melodious  wing. 
And  if  thou  wilt  beguile  my  care 
And  lull  my  sorrows,  weave  an  air 

Of  notes  love-wandering. 
Then  groundsel  fresh  for  thy  delight 
Each  morn,  and  dew-drops  sprinkled  light 

For  thy  reward  I'll  bring. 

XXX 

The  sound  of  love  rings  ever  in  my  ears, 
My  eye  weeps  mute  sweet  tribute  to  desire ; 

No  sleep  or  night  or  day  ;  the  love-charm  sears 
My  soul  still  branded  with  familiar  fire. 

Ye  winged  Loves,  why  swoop  ye  on  my  heart 

So  swift,  and  yet  so  helpless  to  depart  ? 


XXXI 

On  thee  the  cable  of  my  life  is  bent, 

In  thee  is  found  what  spirit  is  left  me  now  ; 

Aye,  by  thy  glances,  mute  yet  eloquent, 
By  the  perfection  of  thy  marble  brow, 

Thy  scowl  can  chill  me  like  the  winter  snow  ; 

Smile,  and  I  bask  in  spring's  delightsome  glow. 

XXXII 

Pan  on  the  Death  of  Dahnis 

I,  Pan  goat-footed,  tend  no  more 

My  kidling  flocks  ; 
I  have  no  pleasure  as  of  yore 

To  scale  the  rocks. 

[73] 


What  can  the  mountains  yield  me  yet 

For  my  desire  ? 
Daphnis  is  dead,  Daphnis  who  set 

My  heart  on  fire. 

Here  in  the  city  let  me  mope  ; 

Be  others  bold 
To  chase  the  game  ;  Pan  cannot  cope 

His  joys  of  old. 

XXXIII 

0  cruel  god,  I'm  down  ! 
Set  on  my  neck  thy  heel ! 

By  Heaven,  I  know  thy  frown, 
A  bitter  frown  to  feel ! 

1  know  thy  fiery  dart ; 

But  now,  for  all  thy  pains, 

Thou  canst  not  fire  my  heart ; 

Nothing  but  ash  remains. 

XXXIV 

I  will  burn  your  weapons,  Cupid !    Ay,  by  Venus,  I 

will  throw 
In  the  fire  your  Scythian  quiverful  of  arrows  and  your 

bow  ! 
I'll  burn  them  !     Why  that  silly  laugh,  that  grinning 

mocking  sneer? 
You  shall  laugh  upon  the  wrong  side  of  your  mouth, 

Sir,  never  fear. 
I'll  clip  those  pretty  wings  of  yours  that  lead  the  way 

to  Passion, 
And  manacles  and  gyves  of  brass  to  fetter  you  I'll 

fashion. 

[  74  ] 


Yet  with  my  own  petard  I'm  hoist,  if  in  my  breast  I 

lock 
A  traitor,  shut  the  wild-cat  in  the  goat-fold  with  the 

flock. 
Unconquerable  boy,  be  off!      Put  on  your  sandals 

light, 
But  make  for  other  bosoms  when  you  spread  your 

wings  in  flight. 


XXXV 

Vocal  cicada,  drunk  with  dewy  drops, 

Thou  tunest  thy  lonesome  rustic  melody 
On  this  tall  tree,  touching  the  lyric  stops 

Upon  thy  swarthy  side  and  serrate  thigh. 
My  kindly  friend,  in  antiphone  to  Pan 

Pipe  to  the  sylvan  nymphs  a  jocund  strain, 
While,  scaping  love,  I  sleep  a  noontide  span 

Stretcht  here  at  length  beneath  the  shadowy  plane. 


XXXVI 

You  freighted  ships,  that  homeward  sail 
The  Hellespont,  before  the  gale 

Of  Boreas  running  free, 
If  haply  on  Cos'  island  strand 
You  chance  to  see  my  Phanion  stand 

Gazing  across  the  sea, 
Tell  her  how  yearning  draws  me  home  ; 
Yet  not  on  shipboard  do  I  come, 

But  footing  it  by  road. 
And  if  you  bear  my  message  well, 
Your  sails  with  favouring  breeze  shall  swell, 

Sent  by  a  kindly  god. 

[751 


XXXVII 

The  sweet  day-break 
Is  come,  yet  on  the  threshold  Damis  lies, 

And  keeps  his  wake, 
And  wastes  the  remnant  of  his  spirit  in  sighs. 

He  caught  a  sight, 
Poor  wretch— of  two  bright  eyes,  and  all  his  soul 

In  their  hot  light 
Melted  like  wax  cast  on  the  glowing  coal. 

Nay,  Damis,  nay  ! 
Be  up  and  doing  !     Like  to  thee  I  pine  ; 

I  too  bewray 
Love's  wound,  and  with  thy  tears  I  mingle  mine. 


XXXVIII 

One  day  I  saw  Alexis  walk 

In  noon-tide  heat ; 
Summer  was  reaping  from  the  stalk 

The  ripened  wheat. 
And  so  I  burnt  in  double  wise  ; 

The  fire  of  Love 
Outdid  in  flame  of  those  bright  eyes 

The  sun  above. 
Yet  this  was  quenched  when  evening  came  ; 

That,  all  the  night, 
Fanned  brighter  yet  in  dreams  the  flame 

That  was  so  bright. 
So  sleep,  that  brings  to  others  rest, 

Brought  me  but  care, 
Branding  relentless  on  my  breast 

That  image  fair. 

I  76] 


XXXIX 

On  his  Old  Age 

My  birthplace  was  of  Syria, 
The  Attic  haunt  of  Gadara  ; 
My  foster-nurse  was  island  Tyre, 
And  Eucrates  I  own  for  sire. 
By  Muses'  help  the  first  to  vie 
With  Menippean  Graces,  I 
Am  Meleager.     Yes,  and  what 
If  Syrian  ?     Stranger,  marvel  not. 
Own  we  not  all  one  common  earth  ? 
One  chaos  brought  us  all  to  birth. 
Now  full  of  years  these  lines  I  trace, 
Here  with  my  burial  face  to  face  : 
In  House  of  Eld  who  sojourneth 
Hath  for  his  next-door  neighbour  Death. 
Bid  an  old  garrulous  man  "  good-bye  "  ; 
Such  garrulous  age  mayest  thou  enjoy. 


XL 
His  own  Epitaph 

Tread  softly  by  me,  stranger ;  in  the  precincts  of  the 
blest 

An  old  man,  Meleager,  sleeps  his  appointed  rest. 

I  the  son  of  Eucrates,  who  taught  Cupid  the  tearful- 
sweet 

And  the  Muses  all  to  trip  it  with  the  Graces'  frolic 
feet. 

Tyre,  nurse  of  gods,  and  Gadara  reared  me  from  babe 
to  man  ; 

My  age  was  tended  by  the  care  of  Cos  Meropian. 

[  77  ] 


Art  thou  a  Syrian  ?    Say  "  salaam."    Art  thou  Pheni- 

cian  ?  call 
"  Naidios  "  ;  if  Grecian,  say  "  All  hail ! "  the  same  to 

me  are  all. 


PHILODEMUS 


The  buds  of  her  spring  are  not  opened, 
The  grape  has  no  purple  to  shew  ; 

Yet  the  charm  of  the  maiden  is  dawning, 
The  young  Loves  are  stringing  the  bow. 

While  the  fire  in  sweet  Lucy  yet  smoulders, 
Fond  lovers,  take  counsel  of  me — 

Beware  of  the  great  conflagration  ; 
Ere  the  arrows  are  drawn  at  you,  flee  ! 


Shine,  horned  moon,  Queen  of  the  midnight  hour, 
And  through  the  casement  pour  thy  throbbing  rays  ; 

Shine  on  my  golden  Phyllis  ;  through  the  bower 
Of  lovers  may  a  goddess  seemly  gaze. 

Thou  sharest  her  joys  and  mine,  O  moon,  I  know  ; 

Did  not  Endymion  set  thy  heart  aglow? 

ill 

I  have  loved — what  man  but  has  loved  ?    Adept  in  the 

frenzy  of  wine 
I  have  revelled — who  is  not  adept  ?     I  was  mad,  but 

with  madness  divine. 

I  78] 


Well,  it  is  over  and  done  ;  farewell !     We  are  turning 

the  page  ; 
White  hairs  come  with  the  black,  to  herald  the  wisdom 

of  age. 
When  it  was  time  for  sporting,  I  sported ;  now  it  is 

o'er, 
My  spirit  shall  turn  me  now  to  the  light  of  a  loftier 

lore. 


ZONAS 


The  orchard  keeper  doth  to  thee, 

Priapus,  dedicate 
This  quince  in  bloom  of  tender  down, 

This  bursting  pomegranate, 

A  walnut  shelled  from  its  green  husk, 

A  wrinkled  navel-fig, 
A  purple  bunch  of  swelling  grapes, 

With  tipsy  juices  big. 

So  may  thy  image,  rustic  god, 
Thy  rough-hewn  tree-trunk,  please 

To  take  the  vegetable  vow, 
The  offering  of  the  trees. 

II 

Demeter  of  the  Threshing-floor, 
Seasons  that  rule  the  plough, 

These  from  his  scanty  fields  to  you 
Hermonax  gives  in  vow  ; 

[  79  ] 


Your  share  of  winnowed  corn  and  pulse 

In  mingled  seeds  is  laid 
Here  on  the  wooden  trivet  stool, 

Your  first  fruits  duly  paid. 

Little  his  store,  and  least  the  gifts  ; 

Tiny  the  patch  he  owns 
Along  the  rugged  mountain  side 

Amid  the  barren  stones. 


ERYCIUS 

On  a  Tomb  at  Cyzicus 

An  Attic  maid  in  Athens  born, 
By  arms  Italian  I  was  torn, 
Ruthless,  a  captive  from  my  home, 
And  made  a  denizen  of  Rome. 
Therefrom  to  Cyzicus  came  I, 
This  island  city,  here  to  die  ; 
And  here  my  bones  are  laid  in  earth. 
Farewell,  dear  country  of  my  birth, 
Thou  too  wherein  my  lot  was  cast, 
And  thou  that  giv'st  me  rest  at  last. 


NOTES 

ERINNA  (about  600  B.C.  ?) 

1.  A.P.  vii.  712;  M.  iii.   18.     The  epigram  is  quoted 
by  Leonidas  (see  No.   I  under  his  name)  and  imitated  by 
Meleager. 

2.  A.  P.  vi.  352  ;  M.  iv.  34. 

SIMONIDES 

1.  A.P.  vii.  253  ;   M.  iii.  I.     This  epigram  and  the  next 
were  for  the  Athenian  and  Spartan  dead  at  Plataea,  but  it  is 
not  clear  which  is  for  which. 

2.  A.  P.  vii.  25  ;  M.  iii.  2. 

3.  A.  P.  vii.  249  ;  M.  iii.  4  ;  it  is  quoted  by  Herodotus. 

4.  A.P.   vii.    344.     After   removing   the  feeble   distich 
which  is  given  separately  in  the  Anthology  and  is  plainly 
a  later  addition,  I  see  no  reason  to  doubt  the  attribution 
of  the  couplet.     The  lion  is  of  course  an  allusion  to  the 
name  of  Leonidas. 

5.  A.P.  vii.  512  ;  M.  iii.  6.     This  may  possibly  be  for 
the  tomb  of  the  Tegeans  who  fell  at  Plataea.    But  the  next, 
with  its  allusion  to  the  Hellenes  who  strove  to  deprive  other 
Hellenes  of  freedom,  evidently  refers  to  the  war  between 
Sparta  and  Tegea,  B.C.  479-464,  and  this  may  belong  to  the 
same  series  of  events.     Tegea   won  a  great   victory  over 
Sparta  but  was  in  the  end  subdued. 

6.  A.P.  vii.  442. 

7.  A.  Plan.  26;  M.  iii.  10. 

8.  Thucydides  vi.   59 ;  quoted  also,  as  by  Simonides, 
in  Aristotle,  Rhet.  i.  9,  1367^.     Archedike,  the  daughter  of 
Hippias,  married  Aiantides,  son  of  Hippoclus,  "  tyrant"  of 


r  si 


Lampsacus,  and  the  inscription  was  on  her  grave  there. 
Little  is  known  of  her  brothers,  and  nothing  of  her  sons ; 
their  dynasty  must  be  taken  on  trust.  It  is  significant  of 
Athenian  resentment  that  no  word  is  said  of  her  grandfather 
Pisistratus,  the  most  famous  of  all. 

9.  A.  P.  vii.  590 ;  M.  xi.  20.     Doubt  has  been  thrown 
on  the  authenticity  of  the  epigram  because  of  an  apparent 
false  quantity.     But,  as  Mackail  says,  "  the  epigram  has  the 
all  but  inimitable  touch  of  Simonides,  and  if  not  authentic  is 
a  very  masterly  forgery." 

10.  Pollux  v.  47  ;  M.  iii.  61.     Pelion  and  Ossa  record 
Simonides'  visits  to  the  Aleuadae  in  Thessaly.     Cithaeron  is 
named  because  Athens  was  his  second  home. 

11.  Athenaeus  iii.  125;  M.  x.  5.     The  story  is  quoted 
by  Ath.  from  the  Miscellanies  of  Callistratus — not  a  high 
authority — and  its  authenticity  cannot  be  guaranteed. 

AESCHYLUS  (525-4268.0.) 

1.  A. P.  vii.  255;  M.  iii.  9.     Nothing  is  known  of  the 
occasion,  and  the  ascription  in  the  Anthology  is  our  only 
ground  for  naming  Aeschylus. 

2.  M.   iii.    13.     The  epitaph,  according  to  the  Life  of 
Aeschylus,  was  inscribed  on  his  tomb  at  Gela  in  Sicily,  where 
he  died.    Athenaeus,  quoting  it,  says  that  it  was  by  Aeschylus 
himself.     He    fought,    of  course,   both  at   Marathon   and 
Salamis. 

BACCHYLIDES  (c.  470  B.C.) 

A.  P.  vi.  53  ;  M.  ii.  35.  The  epigram  is  assigned  to 
Bacchylides  by  the  Anthology,  but  it  seems  to  me  to  be- 
long to  a  much  later  age.  Bacchylides  was  nephew  of 
Simonides. 

PLATO  (429-347) 

(Of  the  numerous  epigrams  attributed  to  Plato  in  the 
Anthology  the  six  first  given  here  may  fairly  be  considered 
authentic.) 

[  82] 


1.  M.  iv.   14,  from  Olympiodorus  in  his  Life  of  Plato 
and  Thomas  Magister  in  his  Life  of  Aristophanes. 

2.  A.P.  vii.  256;  M.  iii.  n. 

3.  A.P.  vii.  259;  M.  iii.  12. 

4.  A.P.  vii.  669;  M.  viii.  7.     I  am  of  course  aware 
that  in  turning  Aster  into  Stella  I  am  translating   manners 
as  well  as  words ;  but  I  am  prepared  to  defend  the  process. 

5.  A.P.  vii.  670;  M.  xi.  53. 

6.  A.  P.  rii.  56. 

ASCRIBED   TO   PLATO 

1.  A. Plan.  13 ;  M.  vi.  5. 

2.  A.  P.  ix.  823  ;  M.  vi.  8. 

3.  A.  P.  vi.  I  ;  M.  ii.  22. 

4.  A.  Plan.  248  ;  M.  iv.  45. 

5.  A.  P.  ix.  747. 

6.  A.P.  ix.  44;  M.  ix.  31. 

PARRHASIUS  (/.  400  B.C.) 

M.  iv.  47,  from  Athenaeus  xii.  543^. 

THUCYDIDES  (471-401  B.C.) 

A.P.  vii.  45  ;  M.  iv.  13.     Though  ascribed  to  Thucydides 
the  epigram  is  probably  of  later  date. 

DEMODOCUS   (?) 
A.  P.  xi.  236  ;  M.  x.  39. 

ADDAEUS  OF  MACEDONIA  (about  320  B.C.) 

1.  A.P.  vi.  228;  M.  vi.  18. 

2.  A.P.  vii.  694;  M.  v.   12.     Compare  the  epigram  of 
Parses. 

ANYTE  OF  TEGEA  (about  300  B.C.  ?) 

1.  A. P.  ix.  144;  M.  vi.  24. 

2.  A.  P.  ix.  314;  M.  vi.  14. 

3.  A.  Plan.  291  ;  M.  ii.  37. 

[  83  1 


HEGESIPPUS  (of  doubtful  age) 
A.P.  vi.  178;  M.  ii.  28. 

PERSES  (of  doubtful  age) 

A. P.  ix.  334;  M.  v.  ii.  Tychon  is  one  of  the 
minor  domestic  gods,  of  the  same  class  as  the  "hero" 
Philopregmon  in  Addaeus,  No.  2. 

SIMMIAS  OF  RHODES  (before  300  B.C.) 

1.  A.  P.  vii.  22;  M.  iv.  12. 

2.  A.  P.  vii.  203;  M.  xi.  12. 

ASCLEPIADES  OF  SAMOS  (about  290  B.C.) 

One  of  the  most  famous  poets  of  the  Alexandrian  school ; 
acknowledged  by  Theocritus  as  one  of  his  masters. 

1.  A.  P.  v.  64;  M.  iv.  12. 

2.  A.  P.  v.  169;  M.  i.  2. 

3.  A.  P.  xii.  46;  M.  i.  66. 

4.  A.  P.  vii.  284;  M.  xi.  30. 

5.  A.P.  v.  150;  M.  i.  27. 

6.  A.  P.  v.  164;  M.  i.  28. 

7.  A.  P.  v.  145;  M.  i.  69. 

LEONIDAS  OF  TARENTUM  (about  274  B.C.) 

1.  A.P.  vii.   13;   M.  iv.  7.     Leonidas  quotes  from  the 
epitaph  of  Erinna  on  Baucis  translated  under  her  name,  No.  i. 

2.  A.  P.  vii.  657  ;  M.  xi.  9. 

3.  A.P.  vii.  466  ;  M.  xi.  37. 

4.  A.P.  vii.  163;  M.  Hi.  52. 

5.  A.  P.  ix.  337 ;  M.  v.  10.     On  a  statue  of  Pan  in  a 
valley  between  two  hills. 

6.  A.P.  x.  i  ;  M.  vi.  26. 

7.  A.  Plan.  230;  M.  vi.  3. 

8.  A.P.  vii.  731  ;  M.  xi.  6. 

9.  A.P.  vii.  273 ;  M.  iii.  26. 

[  84  ] 


10.  A.P.  ix.  107;  M.  v.  13. 

11.  A. P.  ix.  106;  M.  ix.  28. 

12.  A.  P.  vi.  44;  M.  x.  6. 


THEOCRITUS  (about  280  B.C.) 
(The  famous  bucolic  poet) 

1.  A. P.  vi.  340;  M.  vii.  10. 

2.  A.  P.  vi.  336;  M.  ii.  19. 

3.  A.  P.  ix.  433;  M.  iv.  23. 

4.  A.  P.  ix.  432;  M.  xi.  15. 

5.  A.  P.  vi.  177  ;  M.  ii.  38. 

6.  A.  P.  ix.  338;  M.  vi.  13. 

7.  A.  P.  vi.  337;  M.  ii.  15. 


CALLIMACHUS  (d.  about  240  B.C.) 
(The  greatest  poet  of  Alexandria) 

1.  A. P.  xii.  43;   M.  iv.   31.     The  lines  explain  much 
that  we  find  in  Callimachus'  poetry.     He  is  always  striving 
after  originality,  sometimes  by  obscure  and  involved  expres- 
sion, sometimes  by  a  markedly  trivial  and  familiar  treatment, 
as  in  Nos.  10  and  1 1.    He  can,  however,  be  simple  and  touch- 
ing— as  in  Nos.  5,  6  and  7.     The  "cyclic  poem"  expresses 
his  contempt  for  the  purely  imitative  epic  of  Apollonius 
Rhodius. 

2.  A.  P.  ix.  565  ;  M.  xii.  19.     Theaetetus  may  be  identical 
with  the  author  of  several  epigrams,  some  of  which  are  here 
translated  (see  p.  87). 

3.  A.P.  vi.  146  ;  M.  vii.  12. 

4.  A.  P.  vii.  471  ;  M.  iv.  29. 

5.  A.P.  vii.  451  ;  M.  iii.  67. 

6.  A.P.  vii.  277  ;  M.  iii.  22. 

7.  A.  P.  vii.  459  ;  M.  iii.  42. 

8.  A.P.  vi.  149  ;  M.  ii.  13. 

9.  A.P.  xii.  134;  M.  i.  13. 
10.     A.P.  vi.  147;  M.  vii.  13. 

[  85] 


11.  A.  P.  vi.  148  ;  M.  ii.  26  (see  Additional  Note). 

12.  A.P.  xii.  148;  M.  ix.  15. 

MOERO  (about  250  B.C.) 

One  of  the  famous  poetesses   of  her  age.     These    two 
dedications  are  all  that  survive. 

1.  A.P.  vi.  119  ;  M.  ii.  20. 

2.  A.P.  vi.  189. 

NICAENETUS  (about  250  B.C.) 

1.  M.  vi.  28,  from  Athenaeus,  who  speaks  of  the  use  of 
osier  withies  for  festal  crowns  as  peculiar  to  Nicaenetus' 
native  island  of  Samos.     It  is  connected  with  the  rites  used 
in  the  worship  of  Hera,  the  "  Consort  of  Jove,"  and  patron 
goddess  of  the  island. 

2.  A.P.  vii.  502  ;  M.  iii.  29. 


RHIANUS  («&>«/  200  B.C.) 

A  famous  epic  poet  of  Alexandria. 
A.P.  xii.  121  ;  M.  viii.  2. 

THEODORIDES  (about  200  -&.C.) 
A.P.  vii.  282;  M.  iii.  19. 

MNASALCAS  (before  200  -B.C.) 

1.  A.P.  vii.  242  ;  M.  iii.  5.     There  is  no  known  occasion 
for  this  epitaph,  which  is  probably  only  an  irritation  of 
Simonides,  whose  style,  it  must  be  admitted,  is  admirably 
caught.     Dying    for    freedom    was    quite  out   of   date   in 
Mnasalcas'  time.     Hence,  no  doubt,  the  reason  for  an  epi- 
taph on  Mnasalcas  by  Theodorides  (A.P.  xii.  21),  accusing 
him  of  "  turgidity  "  or,  as  we  should  say,  "insincerity." 

2.  A.P.  vii.  171  ;  M.  xi.  10.     The  "  fowling-rods  "  were 
long  sticks  smeared  with  birdlime  and  set  up  among  the  trees 
for  birds  to  perch  on. 

[86] 


3.  A.  P.  xii.  138;  M.  viii.  8. 

4.  A.  P.  vi.  268  ;  M.  ii.  40. 

MOSCHUS  (before  200  B.C.) 
A.  Plan.  174;  M.  iv.  37. 

DIOTIMUS  (probably  of  the  same  time) 

1.  A. P.  vii.  172;  M.  xi.  17. 

2.  A.P.  vii.  261  ;  M.  iii.  41. 

THEAETETUS  (before  240  B.C.) 

1.  A. P.  vii.  499;  M.  iii.  28. 

2.  M.  'xi.  7,  from  the  Life  of  Grantor  by  Diog.  Laert. 
Grantor  was  head  of  the  Academy  about  300  B.C.     This 
epigram  confirms  the  belief  that  the  author  is  identical  with 
the  Theaetetus  of  Callimachus'  epigram. 

3.  A.  P.  vi.  357  ;  M.  vii.  16. 

ANTIPATER   OF   SIDON  (about  100  B.C.) 

There  is  another  Antipater,  of  Thessalonica.  Both  were 
copious  epigrammatists,  and  as  a  certain  number  of  poems 
appear  in  the  Anthology  only  under  the  name  of  Antipater 
there  is  some  doubt  as  to  which  of  the  two  is  the  author. 
I  have  followed  Mackail  in  his  attribution. 

1.  A. P.  vii.  8;  M.  iv.  4. 

2.  A.  P.  vii.  6;  M.  iv.  2. 

3.  A.  P.  vii.  26;  M.  iv.  9. 

4.  A.  Plan.   305  ;  M.   10.     There  is  an  allusion  to  the 
story  that  when  Pindar  was  a  child  a  swarm  of  bees  settled 
on  him  and  left  their  honey  on  his  lips. 

5.  A.  P.  vii.  464;  M.  vii.  19. 

6.  A.  P.  ix.  417  ;  M.  xi.  16. 

7.  A. P.  vii.  209;  M.  xi.  Ii. 

8.  A.P.  vii.  711  ;  M.  xi.  41. 

9.  A.P.  vii.  639;  M.  iii.  27. 


10.  A.  P.  ix.  58;  M.  iv.  46.     The  Seven  Wonders  are 
— the  statue  of  Zeus  at  Olympia  by  Pheidias ;    the  walls 
of   Babylon  ;   the   hanging  gardens  also  at  Babylon  ;    the 
Colossus  of  Rhodes ;    the   pyramids ;    the   Mausoleum   or 
tomb  of  Mausolus  ;  and  finally  the  great  temple  of  Artemis 
at  Ephesus. 

11.  A. P.  vi.  160;  M.  ii.  30.     This  is  a  specimen  of  a 
class  of  poems  in  which  workers  in  various  forms  of  industry 
dedicate   their   tools.     It    was   a  stock    theme    for    many 
generations. 

12.  A.  P.    vii.    498.     There   is   some   doubt   as  to   the 
authorship. 

13.  A.  P.  vi.  223  ;  M.  ii.  8.     This,  like  the  preceding,  is 
recorded  only  as  by  "  Antipater."    The  Scolopendra  or  sea- 
serpent  seems  to  have  been  a  half-fabulous  monster.     "The 
object  dedicated  here  must  be  one  of  the  tentacles  of  a  huge 
cuttle-fish." — MACKAIL.     See  his  note. 

14.  A.  P.  x.  2 ;  M.  vi.  27.     Compare  the  similar  epigram 
"by  Leonidas.  No.  6. 

15.  A.  P.  xi.  23  ;  M.  xii.  9. 

ARISTON  (not  later  than  MELEAGER) 
A.  P.  vi.  303;  M.  iv.  27. 

HERMOCREON  (not  later  than  MELEAGER) 

1.  A.  P.  ix.  327;  M.  ii.  16. 

2.  A. Plan.  II  ;   M.  vi.  7. 

TYMNES  (not  later  than  MELEAGER) 

1.  A. P.  vi.  199;  M.  xi.  13. 

2.  A.  P.  vii.  477;  M.  xi.  19. 

3.  A.  P.  vii.  211  ;  M.   iii.   58.     It  will  be  noticed  that 
this  very  minor  poet,  having  hit  on  the  phrase  "  silent  ways 
of  night,"  is  so  pleased  with  it  that  he  cannot  refrain  from 
repeating  it. 

ARISTODICUS  (not  later  than  MELEAGBR) 
A.P.  vii.  189;  M.  xi.  14. 

t  88] 


MELEAGER  (about  90  B.C.) 

(It  is  remarkable  that  one  of  the  great  names  in  later 
Greek  literature  should  be  that  of  a  Syrian.  Meleager  is 
important  in  literary  history,  first  because  he  breathed  a  new 
spirit  into  the  Greek  love-poem,  and  secondly  because  it  is 
to  him  that  we  owe  the  conception  of  the  Anthology,  and 
the  preservation  in  his  "Garland"  of  the  epigrams  of  the 
poets  who  preceded  him. 

The  selection  of  translations  from  him  here  given  opens 
with  poems  to  Heliodora,  and  is  followed  by  poems  to 
Zenophile,  his  two  chief  loves.  I  have  grouped  them 
together  in  the  hope  that  the  translations  will  show,  what 
is  quite  evident  in  the  original,  the  contrast  between  them. 
While  the  poems  to  Zenophila  are  poems  mainly  of  graceful 
fancy,  those  to  Heliodora  are  full  of  real  passion  ;  their 
sincerity  is  plain,  and  nowhere  more  so  than  in  the  poignant 
lament  on  her  death  (No.  10).  It  is  noteworthy  that,  so  far 
as  I  know,  he  never  speaks  of  her  as  beautiful ;  she  is  the 
"sweet-voiced"  or  gracious;  her  charm  lay  not  in  her 
person  but  in  her  voice  and  conversation.  She  was  plainly 
the  dominant  influence  in  his  life. 

Unfortunately,  both  her  beautiful  name  and  that  of  Zeno- 
phile cause  difficulty  to  the  translator ;  their  length  makes 
them  somewhat  unmanageable,  especially  in  lighter  verse, 
which  they  overburden  by  sheer  length.  I  have  therefore 
ventured  to  substitute  for  them,  where  needful,  the  shorter 
forms  "Doris"  and  "Zeno,"  which  I  imagine  may  well 
have  been  used  by  the  poet  in  speaking  to  them.  Zeno,  at 
least,  is  the  proper  "pet  name"  of  Zenophile,  and  I  think 
the  same  may  be  true  of  Doris. ) 

1.  A. P.  v.  147  ;  M.  x.  i. 

2.  A.  P.  v.  143  ;  M.  i.  219. 

3.  A.  P.  v.  155  ;  M.  i.  75. 

4.  A.  P.  v.  136  ;  M.  i.  55. 

5.  A.  P.  xii.  147;  M.  i.  17. 

6.  A.  P.  v.  1 66;  M.  i.  68. 

7.  A.  P.  v.  163;  M.  i.  60. 

[89] 


8.  A.  P.  v.  148. 

9.  A.  P.  v.  137;  M.  i.  54. 

10.  A.  P.  vii.  476  ;  M.  xi.  47. 

(11-17  are  all  addressed  to  Zenophile) 

11.  A.P.  v.  171 ;  M.  i.  II. 

12.  A.P.  v.  144;  M.  i.  18.     The  last  line  in  the  original 
shows  a  change  in  dialect  to  broad  Doric.     It  is  not  perhaps 
safe  to  lay  much  stress  on  the  dialects  of  the  Anthology,  but 
I  have  tried  to  reproduce  the  effect  by  the  final  phrase  in 
Scottish. 

13.  A.  P.  v.  178;  M.  i.  52. 

14.  A.  P.  v.  177  ;  M.  i.  12. 

15.  A.P.  v.  152;  M.  i.  61. 

16.  A.P.  v.  139  ;  M.  i.  59. 

17.  A.P.  v.  174;  M.  i.  42. 

18.  A.P.  v.  156  ;  M.  i.  56. 

19.  A.  P.  v.  190  ;  M.  i.  46. 

20.  A.  P.  xii.  113. 

21.  A.  P.  v.  96. 

22.  A.P.  v.  198 ;  M.  i.  49.     It  seems  evident  to  me  that 
ir\6Ka/j.ot>  and  the  other  accusatives  in  the  first  four  lines  are 
not  the  objects  of  an  oath,  but  are  in  apposition  with  dioroiyy. 

23.  A.P.  v.  172  ;  M.  i.  24. 

24.  A.P.  v.  173  ;  M.  i.  25. 

25.  A. P.  xii.  114;  M.  i.  20. 

26.  A.P.  v.  57  ;  M.  i.  51. 

27.  A.  P.  ix.  16. 

28.  A. P.  v.  187  (the  first  two  lines) ;  A.P.  v.  182;  M.  i. 
32  (the  remainder).     I  have  joined  the  two  epigrams,  but 
with  some  hesitation.      Dorcas  is,   of  course,    Meleager's 
maidservant. 

29.  A.P.  vii.  195  ;  M.  i.  64. 

30.  A.P.  v.  212;  M.  i.  10. 

31.  A.P.  xii.  128  ;  M.  viii.  9. 

32.  A.  P.  vii.  335  ;  M.  viii.  14. 

33.  A.  P.  xii.  48  ;  M.  i.  72. 

34.  A.P.  v.  179. 

[  90  ] 


35-  A. P.  vii.  196  ;  M.  i.  65. 

36.  A.  P.  xii.  53  ;  M.  iii.  n. 

37.  A.  P.  xii.  72  ;  M.  viii.  13. 

38.  A.  P.  xii.  127;  M.  viii.  I. 

39.  A.P.  vii.  417;  M.  iv.  17. 

40.  A.  P.  vii.  419  ;  M.  iv.  16. 


PHILODEMUS 

(Philodemus,  like  Meleager,  came  from  Gadara  in  Syria. 
He  was  a  distinguished  Epicurean  philosopher,  a  contem- 
porary of  Cicero,  and  well  known  at  Rome.  As  Cicero  in 
one  place  attacks  him  for  profligacy,  and  at  another  places 
him  among  "  cum  optimos  viros,  turn  doctissimos  homines," 
it  would  seem  that  the  reformation  promised  in  No.  3  was 
honestly  carried  out. ) 

1.  A. P.  v.  124  ;  M.  vii.  3. 

2.  A.  P.  v.  123  ;  M.  i.  39. 

3.  A.  P.  v.  112  ;  M.  x.  47. 


ZONAS 

("  Diodorus  of  Sardis,  commonly  called  Zonas,  is  spoken  of 
by  Strabo,  who  was  a  friend  of  his  kinsman  Diodorus  the 
younger,  as  having  flourished  at  the  time  of  the  invasion 
of  Asia  by  Mithridates,  B.C.  88.  He  was  a  distinguished 
orator." — MACKAIL.) 

1.  A. P.  vi.  22  ;  M.  ii.  31. 

2.  A.  P.  vi.  98  ;  M.  ii.  32. 

ERYCIUS 

("Erycius  of  Cyzicus  flourished  about  the  middle  of  the 
first  century  B.C.  One  of  his  epigrams  (that  here  given)  is 
on  an  Athenian  woman  who  had  been  captured  at  the  sack 
of  Athens  by  Sulla,  B.C.  80." — MACKAIL.) 

A.  P.  vii.  368;  M.  iii.  16. 

[91  ] 


ADDITIONAL  NOTE  ON  CALLIMACHUS  n 

The  whole  interest  of  this  epigram  lies  in  the  last  words  : 
"Ecnrepe,  ITWJ  tweffes.  They  vividly  recall  the  famous  passage 
in  Isaiah  xiv.  12,  which  I  have  not  hesitated  to  use  in  trans- 
lating them.  I  have  done  so  because  I  believe  that  the 
resemblance  is  due  not  to  a  mere  coincidence,  as  is  commonly 
assumed,  but  to  an  actual  reminiscence. 

I  am  not  of  course  suggesting  that  Callimachus  knew 
Hebrew :  and  it  is  highly  improbable  that  the  Septuagint 
translation  of  Isaiah  was  published  in  his  lifetime ;  there  is 
no  evidence  that  the  Prophets  were  translated  within  a 
century  or  so  of  his  death.  And  it  is  perfectly  certain  that 
it  is  not  from  the  Septuagint  that  the  quotation  is  taken  ; 
for  it  is  actually  closer  to  the  Hebrew  than  the  official  trans- 
lation. The  dull  hack  who  translated  the  verse  in  Isaiah 
renders  it  TTWS  l^wtyev  IK  TOV  ovpavov  6  £u(T<p6pos  6  irpul 
dvar^\\uv,  thus  entirely  losing  the  splendid  rhetorical  effect 
of  the  second  person  which  is  duly  preserved  in  Callimachus. 

But  though  the  Septuagint  translation  was  probably  not 
even  begun  during  Callimachus'  lifetime,  there  is  good 
reason  to  suppose  that  it  was  at  least  mooted.  Tradition 
tells  us  that  it  was  undertaken  under  the  patronage  of 
Ptolemy  Philadelphus  (d.  247  B.c  .);  and  though  the  tradition 
is  mixed  up  with  all  sorts  of  fable,  it  is  at  least  consistent 
with  what  is  known  of  Philadelphus  and  his  interest  in 
foreign  literature.  Now  it  was  under  Philadelphus  that 
Callimachus  rose  to  the  first  place  in  Alexandrian  literature  ; 
during  the  last  thirteen  years  of  the  reign  he  was  at  the  head 
of  the  great  library  of  Alexandria,  and  it  may  be  taken  as 
certain  that  no  serious  literary  venture  would  be  patronised 
by  the  court  without  his  knowledge  and  advice. 

It  seems  equally  certain  that  the  royal  patronage  can  only 
have  been  given  after  consideration  of  specimen  translations, 
in  order  that  some  idea  might  be  formed  of  the  literary 
and  historical  value  of  the  Jewish  books.  And  it  is  not 
possible  to  conceive  any  passage  in  the  Old  Testament  which 
would  be  more  suitable  for  the  purpose,  more  likely  to 

[92] 


impress  Alexandria,  than  the  superb  paean  of  Isaiah  over  the 
fall  of  Babylon.  In  the  days  of  Callimachus  the  world  had 
hardly  recovered  from  the  shock  of  the  last  fall  of  the  great 
city  ;  the  father  of  King  Philadelphia  had  taken  a  dis- 
tinguished part  in  it,  and  on  the  ruins  of  Babylon 
Alexandria  itself  had  in  a  sense  risen.  The  whole  passage 
reads  like  a  prophecy  of  the  triumph  of  Alexander  and  the 
house  of  Ptolemy.  The  fervour  of  the  rhetoric  is  impressive 
in  any  language — even  the  emasculated  Septuagint  does  not 
wholly  destroy  it ;  and  the  severer  taste  of  pure  Hellenism 
was  already  on  the  point  of  generating  the  new  "  Asiatic" 
school  of  rhetoric,  and  ready  to  assimilate  a  more  florid 
style. 

And  this  particular  line  may  well  have  made  a  strong 
impression.  To  begin  with,  in  a  literal  translation  it  falls  of 
itself  into  a  passable  hexameter  : 

'Ew<r06pe,  TTWJ  (ireffes  e£    oiipavov,  'Ho£/j  vtt  ; 

just  as,  by  a  curious  coincidence,  it  does  in  English,  "  How 
art  thou  fallen  from  heaven,  O  Lucifer,  Son  of  the 
Morning  ! "  Moreover  Greek  legend  knew  of  Memnon, 
"Son  of  the  Morning";  what  a  treasure  there  might  be 
for  the  vigorous  Alexandrian  school  of  mythology  in 
comparison  with  Hebrew  myth  ! 

On  every  ground  therefore  this  passage  would  commend 
itself  for  a  specimen  translation  to  be  submitted  to  the  dis- 
tinguished critics  of  Alexandria,  and  reported  on  by  them  to 
the  liberal  monarch  whose  assistance  was  sought.  And  I 
feel  convinced  that  such  translation  had  in  fact  been  handed 
round  the  literary  circle  of  which  Callimachus  was  the  chief, 
and  had  provoked  such  lively  interest  and  discussion  that 
an  allusion  to  it  would  give  point  to  an  epigram  which  other- 
wise has  no  claim  to  distinction,  and  is  in  fact  dangerously 
near  to  the  "  banality  "  which  Callimachus  expressly  repudi- 
ates. This  seems  to  me  at  least  as  easy  an  assumption  as 
that  of  a  coincidence  so  close  as  to  be  little  short  of  a 
miracle. 

It  must  be  noted  that   Callimachus  substitutes  *E<rire/>e 

[93  ] 


for  the  'Eow^ope  which  must  have  been  in  the  text  of  the 
translation.  Whether  this  is  a  mere  slip  of  memory,  or  an 
instance  of  Callimachus'  striving  for  originality  even  in 
quotation,  I  do  not  pretend  to  say.  It  is  not  impossible 
that  Callimachus  may  actually  have  written  'Ewtr^ope — the 
word  is  a  trisyllable  in  Homer,  and  the  change  to  the 
more  obvious  "Effirepe  is  hardly  beyond  the  limits  of  textual 
corruption. 


[94] 


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